


Born to Each Other

by fyredancer



Series: Two Against the World [1]
Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Post-Apocalyptic, Sci-fi/fantasy, Twincest, nephilim twins, reaververse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 19:35:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 47,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyredancer/pseuds/fyredancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 2020, the demons descended. The cataclysmic event came to be called "The Rising," and the world that came after was called "Post-Apocalyptic," though for North America most ways of life were preserved when the Walls went up around the major cities. New York City still stood, and managed to retain its control of the port at great cost. The provisional city government paid the sums necessary for demon hunters to safeguard their precious routes of transportation and protect the city.</p><p>One powerful demon, the Nephilim Jorg, seeks an alliance with a human woman to secure an heir. What he hadn't planned on was twins - and considering the potential destruction that Nephilim twins could cause, he decides to separate them. But can you ever truly separate what was meant to be?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> The title is loosely adapted from a very particular line of Iron and Wine's "Evening on the Ground (Lilith's Song)." This takes place in the "Reaververse" original fiction universe along with "After the Rising" but it was built to stand on its own. Particular thanks go to Gin and kuwamiko for beta duty. Thanks SO MUCH, ladies, you rock! The spectacular banner is kuwamiko's work.

[ ](http://s3.photobucket.com/albums/y67/Fyredancer0/Twin%20Picspam/?action=view&current=BtEObanner.jpg)

Jorg paced the hospital floor hard and quick enough to strip tile. One block creaked warning under his heel as he pivoted at the far end of the hallway, and he forced himself to calm his pace. Tonight his child would be born.

The maternity wing stank to all of Jorg's enhanced senses; fear, antiseptic, blood, as well as the psychic trauma of birth that clung like a taint. Jorg wasn't particularly sensitive to empathic nuance, but being a powerful Nephilim made it certain he was far from a mental mute.

It had been two years since Jorg had debased himself to come into the mortal world on his search for a suitably powerful human psychic. As the head of a lesser Nephilim House, Jorg had spent his entire life trying to increase the standing and power of House Kaulitz. 

Jorg's race, the Nephilim, were similar to humans in appearance, though often sporting exotic coloration. They were, in fact, an order of demons. Since the Rising of demon-kind many decades ago and their first, unsuccessful attempt to subjugate humanity, it had become common knowledge amongst Jorg's people that Nephilim-human hybrids often created powerful offspring with capabilities not seen in the pureblood strain of either race.

As House Kaulitz struggled to keep its standing and other Nephilim Houses gained prominence or washed away in the tides of the constant human/demon war, Jorg had considered a most unlikely alliance. It was one that had benefited other, more powerful houses; crazy Lucien on the West coast, for example, had married a powerful human witch and the pair of them had produced an incredibly gifted half-breed, though the woman had later turned on Lucien and fled with her offspring. Such were the risks of allying with humans, no matter how powerful.

Jorg was taking a more hands-on approach. Hence the reason he was even in this miserable human hospital to begin with.

Tonight, the witch that Jorg had bred with, Simone, was finally in labor. She was immense with his child and Jorg was impatient for that first glimpse of his son or daughter. Being a traditional earthy sort, Simone hadn't permitted advanced technological measures to be used to assess the life growing within her, and so Jorg wasn't even certain of the child's sex. The only reason they were in the hospital was Simone's blood pressure had spiked, causing such concern in the midwife that she'd declared home delivery out of the question.

Male or female, Jorg was sure the child would be powerful. He rubbed his big hands together and ceased his pacing, head turning as though he could see through the very wall.

A thin cry rose up from behind the door. It was a mere wail at first, but it soon swelled to a hearty scream.

An unexpected smile broke out over Jorg's face as the door to the midwife's chamber irised open. He had expected to feel triumph, but the first stirrings of paternal instinct surprised him as he crossed quickly to get his first glimpse of his child.

A midwife assistant emerged from the birth chamber, a swaddled white bundle in her arms. Jorg approached, one hand reaching out to turn down the blanket beside its face. The baby was red from birth and yelling, its tiny face screwed up in the middle of another bout of squalling even as Jorg examined the baby's features and found them perfect. Amazingly well-formed, in fact.

“It's a boy,” the woman informed him.

Jorg beamed. “Wonderful,” he boomed, placing his hand on the child's forehead, careful to keep his touch light. He didn't know how invulnerable his child was at this point. “My son, Thomas.”

Behind the midwife assistant, in the chamber beyond another voice started up, lusty wailing starting out at full volume from the start unlike Thomas's first fluttering cry.

Jorg's smile slid off his face. “What is that?” he demanded, an unexpected chill prickling down his spine. He was expecting the woman to allay his concerns, perhaps to let him know there was another woman in childbirth in the same room, as unlikely as Jorg considered that to be.

The woman's smile widened.”Twins,” she replied. “Congratulations.” Then she carried his son back into the birthing chamber.

Jorg stood on the threshold motionless, hands grasping nothing as his blood ran cold.

Twins.

Amongst Jorg's race, twins were not a good omen. If not outright ill-fated, the outcome of Nephilim twins was most often that of angels of destruction, unstoppable forces when paired and even in their right minds. Twins served as a symbol of immense transformative power for good or ill, and were regarded as chaotic neutral at best.

Vivid in his mind at that moment was the cautionary example of the turncoat Sparda. A prominent Nephilim who had sided with the humans, Sparda had married a strong human psychic and their twin sons, Vergil and Dante, had cut decimating swathes through the ranks of Nephilim foot-soldiers. Their exploits even at a young age had made news amongst the Nephilim until Vergil had disappeared unexpectedly, and so much the better.

The prospect of raising twins chilled Jorg to the bone. Raising Nephilim offspring was a touchy proposition to begin with; twin offspring, who would always side with one another rather than him, looking to their own interests rather than his... Jorg didn't know if he could do it.

Best to steal into the birthing chamber and see if he could kill the younger, then, rather than deal with the prospect of disaster visited on House Kaulitz.

The door irised open as Jorg approached. Within, Simone still lay on the table, though someone had tucked a sheet over her. She was sweaty and exhausted yet her face glowed, and her dark eyes were fixed on the screaming child that the midwife was depositing in her arms. 

The look of adoration on Simone's face made Jorg's mouth tighten. She was already attached.

“William, sweet William,” Simone crooned to the baby. “It's fine, now. You're with us.”

“Would you like your other son?” the midwife assistant offered, bringing the first child near. He was also wailing. “His father has named him Thomas.”

Together, the combined shrieks reached a piercing pitch and Jorg winced. Already, barely five minutes born, the twins were proving themselves more powerful together than separate. Jorg unlidded his sense for magic, for power, and appraised his sons. Yes, there was great potential there already, even just born. He was more than satisfied in that respect, at least.

“Yes, of course,” Simone was saying, raising her unoccupied arm and shaping it into a cradle for the child.

The midwife assistant raised Thomas up and both babies shrieked louder in unison, as though the woman had moved to take him from the room again. Instead she settled him on Simone's breast.

Simone shifted, bringing the babes face to face in the outside world for the first time.

Jorg found himself holding his breath as he watched. Both babies quieted instantly, their screwed-up eyes relaxing, faces unclenching as they breathed through their mouths in soft exhausted little pants. Their eyes were open and they looked into one another's faces, silent now. A superstitious shudder gripped Jorg.

“There, my darlings,” Simone soothed, though the boys had already stopped their crying once they were reunited. “Welcome to the world.”

Jorg watched the twins cuddle against Simone's breasts together, eyes already fixed on one another, and he was torn.

***

A year passed swiftly, and Jorg found himself standing over the twins' cradle as his plans solidified at last.

There had been no need for him to act right away, after all. He had waited to allow himself time and space to think. Another factor had been Simone. She was attached to the twins deeply and instantly, and Jorg knew that any action on his part would be greeted with the deadly ferocity of a lioness; Simone's powers were not equal to his, but she was rival enough to pose a threat, and a clash between them could put Jorg's heir at risk as well.

The twins had grown fast and sturdily during their first year, strong and healthy as though they were full-bred Nephilim. They were surprisingly human in coloration despite the strength of Nephilim blood in their veins, with fine white-blond hair that would probably darken to gold as they grew older, and caramel-brown eyes. The only clue to their demon heritage was the solid crimson pupils of their eyes; Jorg's strain possessed the night vision that so many of his kin shared.

Now that the twins were weaned, Jorg had made his decision.

He stood over the cradle a moment longer, looking down at the sleeping boys. Even in slumber they curled around one another. Tom, as they'd taken to calling the elder, had one fist snared on the pajama back of his younger twin, whom they called Bill. The boys were cuddled up face to face and Bill's nose was buried against Tom's neck. In only their first year of development they were already oriented on one another to the exclusion of Simone or Jorg, something that disturbed Jorg as it seemed to delight Simone. When Bill cried, only placing Tom beside him could quiet him. When Tom went crawling around the house, he never went anyplace he couldn't see Bill. They babbled together in a language that was neither human nor demon tongue but even at their very young age seemed to understand one another.

“That's it, then,” Jorg murmured softly, reaching into the cradle and stroking at the soft fine white-blond down that covered Bill's head. He'd made his decision, and hadn't expected to feel this pang of regret. For the good of his House, this had to be done, and sooner was best.

Bill moved in his sleep, burbling moistly against Tom's neck and snuggling closer.

Jorg sighed and stroked his younger son's scalp a moment longer, contemplating the mere twist that would be necessary to end the child's life. He'd already decided against that, though it was probably the more prudent course. At least this way, he would be leaving Simone with something.

“Come, now,” Jorg said quietly, disengaging Tom's clutching hand from the back of Bill's pajamas and seeking to pull the twins apart. It was surprisingly difficult, as the twins clung fiercely together even in sleep and once Jorg prised off one hand, another hand was already grabbing to restore the connection between them. 

At last he had them separated, and Jorg lifted Tom from the cradle. The eldest was his heir. If he raised Tom as a Nephilim in House Kaulitz, never knowing that he had a twin somewhere, Jorg would have the power of the Nephilim-human hybrid child, without the havoc of the twin factor.

Tom's face scrunched up in distress and Bill began to whimper in the cradle at once. Jorg didn't bother with shushing either child. He tucked Tom into the sling across his chest and made all haste as he departed Simone's house and then New York City for good.

When Tom woke, he cried for a year.

***

The boy was seated alone at the end of a long table of children, the closest of his peers being two seats away. In spite of this, the boy was humming happily, applying crayon-sticks with vigor to his drawing tablet. He was an attractive child, with cropped-short golden blond hair and deep brown eyes, pixie-lovely features, and he smiled readily and often, yet the other children avoided Bill.

The teacher approached, watching over Bill's shoulder for a moment before speaking up.

"Bill," she said in a soft tone, leaning beside the five-year old boy and placing a hand on the table.

"Hmm?" Bill looked up, squinting inquisitively.

"The activity is to draw a picture of yourself," the teacher reminded him, keeping her voice low and gentle. She hadn't figured out his triggers yet, but when something set Bill off he could go on a rampage until his mother arrived to calm him. He didn't often break things, usually he just screamed, but one time he'd thrown a toy and cracked a cinder block with the impact.

Bill looked down at the surface of his drawing tablet. He'd sketched out the outline of two small people, one which was clearly himself with short blond hair, and another figure beside him holding his hand, similar to the first but with longer hair.

"This is me," Bill said simply, looking up into her eyes.

The teacher felt a cold finger rake down the back of her neck as she looked down into Bill's warm brown crimson-pupiled eyes. "All right," she said, and hastily moved down the line of students, deciding not to press the issue.

Bill looked down at his drawing again. "Me as I should be," he whispered to his tablet, and picked up a blue crayon-stick to apply vibrant color to the sky.

***

Jorg descended the front steps of House Kaulitz and shaded his eyes against the harsh glare of the noon sun. Unease stirred like an uncoiling snake in his stomach as he spotted the small unmoving figure of Tom in the distance. The boy had taken up a sentry position in the courtyard again, crouched atop one of the square blocky pillars that formed a defense perimeter between the House and the outer wall. He'd picked a spot that gave him the view of one gate in particular.

Crossing over the black flagstones of the courtyard, Jorg covered the distance between them swiftly.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, more harshly than finding Tom idle would merit. He found himself increasingly unable to contain a temper fueled with frustration. He seized his eight-year old son's arm and shook him.

Tom's head craned and he looked up over his shoulder, his brown eyes glittering and his full mouth pressed to a taut line. "Waiting for him," he said simply, as though Jorg had lost all reason to question him in such a way.

Jorg shook his son by the arm even harder, all but dislodging Tom from his seat on the blocky stone pillar. "Waiting for whom? That's ridiculous!"

Tom's fair brow creased and he bent his head until his golden-blond hair flopped down over his eyes. "I don't know," he replied, sounding angry about it. "But I've been missing him since forever."

"No one is coming," Jorg said, drawing the words out cold and cruel. It unnerved him every time new evidence manifested to prove that Tom was still feeling the lack of a bond Jorg had severed years ago. "Now come inside, it's time for weapons practice."

Tom's scowl solidified as he slid off the pillar and hopped onto his feet. "If he won't come, then I'll go to him some day," he threatened.

Jorg cuffed his son's head soundly as Tom passed by him. "That's enough of that nonsense," he growled. "I won't have you pining over these useless imaginings."

Tom slanted a final hate-filled glare at Jorg before running toward the front steps of the House, but he said no more.

Jorg set his hands on his waist and eyed the gate that Tom had been facing, his brow furrowing. Was it coincidence or design that Tom had been looking to the only gate that was in the exact compass point pointing toward New York City?

***

Bill dreamed in vivid color and full sound, he roamed realms he had never been and he adventured amongst fantastic beasts he'd never seen, even in picture displays. And he was never alone, though he could never quite recall the shape of his journeys or the look in his companion's eyes when day broke again.

He only knew that he was happiest when he slept and heartbroken when he woke. They were only together in the night. His mother Simone never had trouble putting Bill to bed; not when he was little, not at five, eight, or now that he was ten.

There were times when Bill opened his eyes and knew he wasn't really opening his eyes. He was there, they'd found each other again in their place beyond the end of the world.

Bill dreamed of a boy with his face, sturdy limbs and solemn eyes. “Tomi,” he greeted the boy, raising a hand to reach out for him, a movement that the boy copied exactly.

“Bill,” the boy answered, wrenching sorrow in his voice. “I miss you.”

When Bill woke, there were tears on his face that he scrubbed away with the back of his hand. He hated the dream because it left him hollow and wanting, but every time he saw the boy it was a pained kind of relief.

***

Tom knew that Jorg could sense him perched there on the edge of peripheral vision, legs askew in his baggy jeans, dreadlocked head tipped to one side as he regarded his father with unblinking concentration, but the Nephilim had said nothing in the half-hour since Tom had stolen into his study. Jorg continued to flip through his dusty grimoires and ignore Tom.

"Tell me who he is," Tom said at last, low and insistent. He'd woken from another dream the night before with a name on his lips and the most wrenching sensation. Half his soul had been torn away and he was nothing but a ghost during the daylight hours. In his twelve years, Tom hadn't been able to figure it out for himself – where his missing half was. This was the first time a name had followed him into waking, though.

Jorg barely glanced up, but sighed at last. "Who?" he said in a weary tone.

"Bill," Tom snapped, and was rewarded when his father actually flinched. An opening at last.

"There is no Bill in the line of House Kaulitz," Jorg growled, shoving his desk several feet across the room and getting up in a veritable storm of fluttering papers. He stalked off, shouting over his shoulder, "Now leave me be! If you've nothing better to do, go prove yourself on some of those posturing lesser bloods wasting time in the courtyard. Make yourself useful for a change."

Tom stared after his father open-mouthed, stunned as he replayed those crucial seconds in his head. The stink of fear and falsehood had seared across the room as Jorg had _lied._

***

"You're always writing in that file," Bill's friend Andreas observed, his bleached-blond head falling against Bill's shoulder as he made a long arm for the battered black notebook computer in Bill's black-tipped fingers. "What are you working on?"

Bill palmed Andreas's face away and calmly held the notebook out of his reach. "Ask first," he advised. "I'm writing lyrics."

"Oh," Andreas said, and pushed himself upright. "Music again? Wow, you totally took over Georg and Gustav's band, I still can't believe it. Even though they're older than us. So can I see?"

Bill shrugged and handed the notebook over, though he bit down on his lip as Andreas paged through the open file on the display, settling down to lean against Bill's shoulder as he read.

"Come and rescue me," Andreas read aloud. "I'm burning, can't you see... Bill, most of these are really sad."

Bill shrugged again, uncomfortably this time, and pushed Andreas off his shoulder. He'd already made the decision not to sleep with his friend but Andreas was always crowding into his physical space – not that Bill minded, tactile creature that he was, but he'd noticed that his friend didn't do that with anyone but him. So Bill had tried to curb that behavior even though it was against his natural instincts. He lapped up attention, physical and otherwise.

"That's not what I'd call constructive critique," Bill said at last. "Whether it's bad or good and what makes you think that is one thing, but saying it's sad doesn't mean anything to me." He knew it could be considered sad. It was his emptiness bled into words.

Andreas ignored him and kept flipping through the lyric file. At last he looked up, his eyes filled with a look Bill had never seen before but didn't like. Bill wasn't weak, he didn't need pity.

"Do you always feel like this?" Andreas asked, voice soft as he handed over the well-worn notebook.

"Like what?" Bill said stiffly, but he gave Andreas a ready smile.

"Lonely...hurting," Andreas ventured. "I mean, you always seem so cheerful, but these lyrics... it's like your heart's been ripped in two."

Bill laughed and patted his friend's cheek fondly, plucking the notebook out of his hand and taking it back. "Don't be silly, Andi," he said with a quick smile, no hard feelings. "You know I've never been in love." That would require Bill having had a whole heart to begin with.

Andreas watched with confused eyes as Bill stowed his cherished notebook in his school bag. "All right, if you say so."

***

The celebration fires burned low at last on the perimeter of House Kaulitz as post-midnight festivities dwindled during the drink-addled slump into the early hours of the morning. The entire House and its share of Nephilim hangers-on and human allies or slaves had turned out for the spectacular feast. The occasion in this instance was the coming of age of Jorg's heir, the powerful but uncanny Tom.

Whispers had chased Tom during his whole childhood and early teens. He was regarded as odd by other Nephilim, both full- and half-blood, his peers and elders, but he didn't particularly care as long as they kept their distance. He'd stepped on plenty of necks over the years even before reaching his majority and snapped a fair share of those, to which Jorg turned a blind eye so long as Tom's "examples" had no further use for him. No one mocked his baggy human clothing anymore, though Jorg himself railed at how Tom's choice of clothes reflected poorly on House Kaulitz – to which Tom said that was half the reason he wore them. The outsized clothes and endless parade of human-style gangster caps appealed to Tom, as well as giving him a guise that made it overwhelmingly easy for other Nephilim to underestimate him.

The dreadlocked hair Tom sported wasn't a particularly Nephilim trait, either, but his first Armsmaster had worn the style and Tom had taken a liking to it. It would be a weakness to admit he missed the demon; he kind of did, although Tom himself had killed him when he'd surpassed him at thirteen, but the hair reminded him of the three years-gone former teacher.

Plus, he liked wearing his hair in dreadlocks and Jorg hated it.

What really seemed to fuel the whispers that Tom heard the most of was Tom's constant aura of searching, of vigilance. How sometimes he spoke of 'we' when he meant himself; the way he did a compulsively thorough scrutiny of any arrivals at House Kaulitz; his penchant for hacking the wireless streams and tapping into human broadcasts and news of any kind. He was looking for someone, the undercurrent of the rumor ran. And all of Tom's careful fishing in those streams of gossip had finally netted him something useful.

Tonight Tom perched in the stone sill of a window alcove, waiting. He held himself perfectly still and calmed the rhythm of his impatient heart, blending it into surrounding noises in a trick he'd learned long ago to his magic-arts tutor's dismay. It had proved invaluable to him over the years as Tom had skulked around House Kaulitz, trying to uncover the truth. All he'd known for sure was that his father was lying about Bill – and not even truly knowing who Bill was, Tom knew that he had to find him.

Bill was _everything._

Steps echoed up the circular stone staircase and Tom held himself ready, not even twitching a muscle. Half the value of waiting here was the shock he'd give his father's seneschal.

Jost came into view, one hand scrubbing across his fatigue-lined face. He was one-sixteenth Nephilim, mostly human by their measure but he'd proved himself an able administrator of House Kaulitz's and Jorg's affairs over the years. He had been with the House for virtually as long as Tom had been alive – Jost had come over from another, lesser House, ran the common knowledge.

Tom had only recently learnt that Jost had, in fact, come from a human city.

Tom had been railing at his father for years, trying to find out who Bill was and how he could find him until Jorg had brought down the hammer and banned the subject. Now Tom was sixteen, of age, and he was going to get his answers no matter what. He'd found the perfect angle.

“Great coming of age feast,” Tom said, low-voiced, as Jost drew even with his alcove. Start out slowly, one of Tom's tutors had advised a long time ago; lull the prey into a false sense of security.

Jost started violently, flailing as he caught sight of Tom. His eyes bulged and he mopped at his brow, wiping away droplets of sweat. “Beelzebub's balls, Tom,” he said hoarsely. “I thought you were in for the night. For crying out loud, you left the feast with three girls.”

Tom pushed himself to the edge of the alcove, dangling his jean-covered legs over the ledge. “They weren't enough to keep me satisfied,” he replied coolly.

Jost took a step forward, even though the expression on his face said he'd rather take one backwards instead. “Need me to take care of anything for you? There's more girls, of course, and I saw some rather tempting lads as well...” He knew Tom wasn't picky regarding gender so long as the form was attractive.

“Nothing's enough to keep me satisfied,” Tom said, giving Jost a shark's grin. He couldn't have hoped for a better opening. “And I think you know why, Jost, above all people in my father's House.”

Jost shook his head quickly and now he stepped back, though it wasn't a denial. “I can't, Tom,” he said at once.

“I'm sixteen now,” Tom insisted. “You know something.”

Jost swallowed. “I can't,” he repeated. He rubbed at his face again, catching sweat with the cuff of one sleeve.

“Where is he?” Tom demanded. “Who is he? The boy with my face. You know all of my father's secrets, Jost, and I need this one. I'm going insane.”

“You're not going insane,” Jost muttered, waving both hands palm-down in a gesture urging Tom to keep his voice down. There were still celebrants in the hall below, Jorg possibly amongst them, and their sound carried up through the spiral stairway.

“I keep seeing him, Jost,” Tom said, becoming louder instead of cooperating with the suggestion. “When I close my eyes; when I sleep. It's not clear enough, but I know he's real – and I know he's not me. He's got dark hair, black hair, and his mole's by his mouth instead of on his cheek. It's driving me crazy.”

Jost waved his hands again more furiously for quiet. “You're not going insane,” he repeated. “There's no insanity in your family line, anyhow.”

Tom quirked a brow. “That doesn't stop some Nephilim going mad, you know. For example, being deprived of something they want or _need_ over a long period of time...” He trailed off suggestively and gave Jost a pointed glare. “Why are you so sure I'm not going mad? Tell me, then.”

“You'll not bait me that easily, pup,” Jost said darkly. “This particular secret comes dear.”

Tom nodded, his mouth firming to a thin line. “I figured. I'm not playing, Jost. It's your life, or the truth this time.” He folded his arms and leaned against one side of the alcove.

Jost stared at him. “What...you're not going to kill me.”

Tom's mouth shaped a humorless smile. “How did you enjoy the wine earlier?”

Jost wiped at his forehead again, looking at the sweat on the back of his hand as though seeing perspiration for the first time. “Are you saying you've poisoned me?” he said, voice shrilling into a higher register.

“Shh, Jost, shh,” Tom said, soothing. “It was so easy, too. Normally I wouldn't stoop to poison, you know; it's such a woman's method, but you had to feel the effects before you'd take me seriously and anything I could do with my hands would probably kill you too fast. You're so damned human.”

“Why--” Jost began, and wiped at his face again. He was sweating profusely now.

“Something's been taken from me, Jost,” Tom said, his eyes hard as he regarded Jost with clinical interest. “Or kept from me; I don't really care about the distinction. And you know about it.”

Jost sagged against the far wall, lifting his sleeve to wipe at his face. “I can't, Tom,” he groaned. “You might be killing me but it's nothing to what Jorg would do if he found out that I was the one who told you.”

“A deal, then,” Tom offered. “I'll disappear from House Kaulitz without a word to my father...depending on what I find out from you, that is. And I'll give you this.” He palmed a golden vial from one baggy pocket and held it up, waggling it enticingly before Jost's eyes.

Jost was becoming pale, his skin tinged with a grayish pallor, and the sweat looked more like grease now as it accumulated over his hairline and cheeks.

“How are you feeling?” Tom asked conversationally. “I was wondering about the effects of the poison. It's designed more for Nephilim, I think, so you might be dead before we're finished with this conversation.” He hid the vial in his fist and crossed his arms again.

“All right,” Jost said, his chest rising and falling as he struggled to pull in breath now. “All right.”

“You're feeling all right?” Tom said skeptically, to disguise his surge of triumph. “After that? I was expecting something a bit more painful, honestly.”

“All right, I'll tell you what you want to know,” Jost said, beginning to pant. “Give it to me, give me the antidote.”

“Tell me the truth, first,” Tom said adamantly, holding up the golden vial again.

Jost's dark eyes locked on Tom's and he wheezed on an inhalation. “You have a twin,” he said, and grimaced, pressing one hand to his chest. “A twin brother. You weren't born here, in House Kaulitz.”

Tom sucked in a sharp breath. The confession resonated within him like the pure tone of a newly-struck bell. Bill, the boy with his face. Tom's twin.

“Tell me more,” Tom ordered.

“I don't know much,” Jost said honestly. “Jorg got the pair of you on the most powerful human female witch he could find and tolerate long enough to breed with. He found me and offered me employment on his way back, when you were still an infant and crying non-stop. You were about a year old.”

“Where is he? Where's Bill?” Tom demanded, tossing the vial over.

Jost gasped and snatched it out of the air, downing the contents immediately. He wiped sweat from his face desperately, avoiding Tom's eyes. “That I don't know.”

Tom's nostrils flared as he scented the air. Jost wasn't lying to him, which was a good thing – he'd snap his neck without thinking twice about it.

“Fine,” Tom said slowly. “Jorg found you in the human world, while I was still an infant. Where?”

“Chicago,” Jost said at once, and Tom could tell that he was still being truthful.

“Thanks,” Tom said, pushing off from the sill of the alcove and landing soundlessly on his feet. “You've been useful, Jost. Hopefully my father won't kill you.”

“Wait, but you said--” Jost cried, one hand stretching out after Tom as he began to descend the stairs.

Tom rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “Oh, I'm not going to say anything,” he said, then smirked over his shoulder. “But as you say, there's very few people who know _this_ particular secret, right? He'll probably realize at some point it was you.”

“What are you going to do?” Jost asked, face twisting in a mix of fear and despair.

Tom rolled his eyes. Pointless question. “I'm going to find Bill, of course.”

No matter how long it took him, no matter how far.

Before dawn had broken, Tom had departed House Kaulitz.


	2. Chapter Two

Bill Trumper put the last touches to his hair, spiking it up in back and spraying it to keep it fixed in place. He didn't have a gig that day but he'd taken a liking to his more dramatic look lately; he'd grown out his hair to slightly below-shoulder length and kept a layer of shorter hair around the crown of his head that he could tease up a bit. Not that he needed the height, gods knew. He was short for a Nephilim, which was tall amongst humans.

When the knock sounded at his door Bill was already bounding for the front of his apartment, handbag clutched in one flawlessly manicured hand. On his way he seized his school bag from its hook and tossed it over his shoulder. He flung the door open, striking a pose.

"How do I look, Andi?" he demanded of his friend, kilting his hips until his red "Idol" t-shirt rode up and gave a peek of the black triple-star tattoo low on the right side of his belly.

Andreas had a dumb look on his face that Bill recognized at once. He got it often, from men and women.

"G-good," Andreas managed.

"Fabulous, let's go," Bill said, seizing his friend's hand and hauling him down the hall as the apartment door swung shut behind them. 

Bill's apartment was pretty far from campus and Andreas was always picking him up in his junker on the mornings that he could.

At seventeen, Bill had gotten early admission to Vanderbrant University, graduating along with Andreas the year before from the high school they had attended three city rings over. It had made his mother, Simone, sad that he'd left her nest so early, but Bill was continually searching, and he'd been ready to get out and do it somewhat more seriously even as his band endeavors began to pick up. Besides, it wasn't as though he never got back across town to see her. 

"You've got Anthropology this morning, right?" Andreas asked as he steered his clunker into traffic. Bill politely buckled his seat belt though he regarded it to be pointless; being half-Nephilim, he'd never sustained so much as a scratch. Even if the car were crumpled into a ball around Bill he'd still be able to punch his way out unscathed.

He might break one of the silk wraps on his nails in doing so, though, and then there'd be hell to pay.

"Yeah, Anthro with Professor Vaille," Bill said with a sigh. "Stupid of me to pick that as an elective; he's so effing boring. I thought I'd learn something about demons."

Andreas snickered. "Why didn't you drop it?"

Bill shrugged. "Boring, but easy. I already know most of this stuff."

Andreas shot him a sidelong glance. "Yeah, well, being half-demon yourself..."

"Half Nephilim," Bill said sharply. To him, it was an important distinction. The Nephilim were virtually human in appearance, nothing like the lesser, more brutal orders of creatures that most of humanity knew as demons. The Nephilim could pass for human, like Bill, though they were stronger, faster, and had senses many times more acute than their more fragile cousin race. Not to mention, so many Nephilim had stylish coloration – Bill still wished he'd been born with shocking violet hair, or something more interesting than his natural blond. He'd tried a few different dye jobs but settled on black in the end. For some reason, keeping the blond hair had been painful for him.

"Right, right, sorry," Andreas apologized.

"It's okay, I'm kidding with you," Bill told him, grinning and elbowing the side of Andreas's seat.

The car rocked and Andreas swerved into traffic.

"Saints, Bill, watch yourself!" Andreas cried out, now sounding panicked.

"Sorry, sorry!"

On campus, Andreas steered his old car into the spot he rented. Bill paid half the dues for the space, considering it only fair as he pressed Andreas into service as chauffeur more often than not. Bill adjusted his schoolbag on his shoulder as he climbed out of Andreas's junker and glanced up, looking across campus toward the building that housed his first class.

He went into an automatic freeze, spotting a teen even from across campus that had his eyes locked on Bill, arms crossed over his chest in a waiting posture. Bill frowned – he'd never seen the boy, who had a dark cap pulled low over his eyes. He had a wealth of blond hair done up in dreadlocks; the hair alone was a distinctive feature that Bill would have recognized. And he was wearing baggy, oversized clothes, both shirt and jeans, the likes of which had gone seriously out of style about a decade ago.

Despite his certainty that he'd never seen the boy before, something twanged at the back of Bill's mind like a song he'd mostly forgotten, a word he couldn't quite remember, an answer weighing down but unsaid on his tongue.

"Hey, Bill, are we – what's up?" Andreas's voice snapped Bill out of his unusually thorough appraisal of the stranger and he glanced around to where his friend was joining him by the side of the car.

"Huh?" Bill grunted inelegantly, shifting his handbag to the other hand and seeking out the boy with a furtive glance again. Damn it, he was gone. He had been across the other side of campus, too, otherwise Bill thought he might have actually spent the last precious minutes before class hunting for him out of sheer curiosity.

"Bill? You okay?"

The question diverted Bill from his odd preoccupation, the second such tangent in too close a time interval. He didn't go chasing after strange boys; he didn't need to. Everyone practically threw themselves panting at Bill's feet. Besides, Bill was pretty sure it would be some kind of scandal if he were to chase after someone in such awful clothing.

"Of course; I'm better than okay!" Bill answered cheerfully, giving his head a little shake. It was a standard answer that defied the insatiable, hollow gnaw at his core, but that was how it had always been. "What's up?"

"I was gonna ask if we're on for tonight, after your theatre class?" Andreas prompted.

"Definitely," Bill answered at once. He was about due to pick up another willing body at the club, especially if he was reacting to strange boys lurking clear across campus. "I'll message George and Gustav."

"And the other guy, remember? Oren, the other member of your band?" Andreas prompted, giving Bill a look as he mentioned the guitarist.

Bill rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'll message Oren too, but you know he never comes."

"That doesn't mean he shouldn't be invited," Andreas retorted. "And you're exaggerating. Sometimes he comes with."

"Yeah, and he's such a damned wet blanket," Bill groused. "Oh, don't drink so much, you guys, we have class tomorrow. Oh, Bill gets all of the remotely attractive people, I can never pull a date of my own. Oh, they never play music I like at this club...on and on!"

Andreas shook his head, waving Bill off. "I'll see you later, then." He didn't even bother trying to tell Bill to lighten up on Oren this time.

Bill nodded and set off for the anthropology building at a jaunty pace, drawing stares and admiring looks as he went. He was used to it, he enjoyed it. He courted it, to an extent – the more attention he pulled in, and the more popular his band got, the more hopeful he was that he'd find it.

His missing piece.

As he opened the door to the anthropology building, an exiting person jostled into him, knocking the schoolbag from Bill's shoulder.

"Watch it, freshman," a honey-silken voice jeered, and Bill looked down into cool jade-green eyes, preparing a scathing retort. He didn't stand for that pecking order crap; he didn't have to.

Bill's senses spiked an alert. _Sex demon,_ his instinct screamed at him, and his nostrils flared. Mated, he realized in the next second, and breathed in relief. Then he grinned wide and rakishly as he recognized the popular model River, whose billboards were plastered over every ring of New York City. _Don't you have a dirty little secret,_ he thought to himself, knowing it was likely that the upperclassman would recognize Bill for his own nature, as well. The knowledge that Nephilim and part-Nephilim moved amongst the general human populace was by and large a secret from the majority of the humans.

"My mistake," Bill murmured, even though it hadn't been anything of the sort.

River glared at him, his pretty face tightening in an expression of instant dislike. "Fuck off my shadow," he snapped, slang warning Bill to stay out of his way.

"No argument here," Bill agreed, delivering a sickly sweet smile River's way. Campus wasn't big enough for Bill and a sex demon, so far as he was concerned, even if the other mixed-blood was mated.

He bent to retrieve his bag once River had backed down the stairs, keeping his wary green eyes on Bill the whole way as though expecting an attack. Bill had managed, barely, to refrain from giving him a cheeky wave to send him on his way, recognizing himself as far more powerful and therefore the more dominant.

Bill caught sight of a dark cap more than halfway across campus and bent a frown on it, annoyed. Did the boy think that Bill wouldn't be able to see him? Maybe most normal people wouldn't, but Bill's sight was a good deal better than the pathetic twenty/twenty that most humans had to work with.

Well, the boy _was_ further than he'd been the first time Bill had spotted him. He was lounging against the corner of a building, arms folded over the front of his oversized t-shirt.

He was definitely watching Bill.

Stalker, Bill thought dismissively, and turned his back on the boy to enter the anthropology building.

An hour later Bill pushed his way out the front door of the same building, loosing an expanding sigh of relief at breathing fresh air again. "Gods, that class is so boring!" he burst out aloud.

"Yeah," one of his female classmates agreed, with a sigh of her own. "But Professor Vaille is _so_ hot!"

Bill shrugged and flashed a disarming grin. He didn't see it, personally, but to each their own. Well, Vaille looked a lot like the model River, down to the fine platinum hair with a faint lavender tint that was a clue as to their Nephilim blood; they were probably related. But the professor wasn't appealing to Bill whatsoever. So he was part Nephilim as well? That must have been how Vaille had come by his extensive knowledge of demonology. Bill repressed a snigger. _The professor's also mated,_ his inner voice supplied, and Bill nodded to himself. Hells, was there something in the water?

He checked automatically across campus for the last known location of the stalker and was unsurprised to see the boy still there. In the same pose, even, as though he'd been unmoving for the entire hour. Bill raised his brows, then turned to his nearest neighbor in the press of bodies as she touched his elbow.

"I'm sorry?" Bill said, to get her to repeat herself.

"I said, do you remember which chapter he assigned for tonight?"

"Oh, chapters thirty-eight through forty-two," Bill replied.

"The man's a demon!" she groaned. "Who can read all of that by tomorrow?"

Bill grinned, part sympathy and all mischief. She had no idea how close her epithet was to the truth and it tickled him. When he glanced across the campus again, the boy was gone.

By the end of the day there had been enough random campus appearances that Bill was certain he'd acquired another stalker. It wasn't so unusual to him; Bill was young, hot, and sexually irresistible to just about everyone – and he knew it. On top of that, the band that he'd been singing with for years was starting to pick up speed. Though privately Bill was plotting to replace their guitarist, Oren, if only he could find a suitable replacement before Oren got on his last nerve.

The annoying thing about this stalker was that he never quite got close enough for Bill to get anything resembling a close look at him, as though he knew or guessed Bill's sight range. Not that Bill was going to do anything about him, yet, but it was like an annoying fly buzzing just out of reach.

After his History elective Bill had a gap of a few hours between that class and his last of the day, Theatre, which was an evening class. Rather than deviate from his typical schedule in deference to the stalker, Bill sought out the library cafe tucked into onto one corner of campus, found his usual nook, and settled in to study. He'd deal with the stalker later.

For now he was looking forward to spending his evening in the best possible way, hitting the club after his last class with his friends and hooking up with some willing and winsome body. To that end Bill extracted his mobile from his handbag and began to compose a group message to his bandmates. Even party dud Oren.

***

Tom found a tolerable leaning position against the brick facade of the building that had a clear view of the library café and he aimed a searing stare across the length of the university campus. From his vantage point he could pick out the distinctive black crest of Bill's hair. _Finally,_ Tom's mind crowed triumphantly as it had whenever he had Bill in his sights again. _Finally, finally._ That one word summed it up.

The moment Tom laid eyes on Bill that morning, he'd known he had found his twin. The thrill of recognition had coursed through him in one molten instant, even with a thousand yards between them. The dark hair, the kohl-lined brown eyes, the full mouth, the tall, rangy body – but it was too much, too intense, and Tom had bolted from his vantage point the instant Bill's attention was diverted.

Trembling unexpectedly, Tom had tucked himself into a secluded spot between the colonnades of another building as he examined his reactions. Overwhelmed as he'd been by the mere sight of Bill, he'd decided to take a more cautious, surveillance-type approach. He'd never been hit by such an aggressive, instant response to anyone before. He wasn't sure what it meant. He needed to be in control of himself, to know his own reactions for once they were face to face.

Tom was still trying to plot out the best way to make himself known. Bill had noticed him already; that much was inevitable. The way Bill stiffened upon seeing Tom, how could he escape knowing? Tom hadn't thought to be discreet. 

Tom was hung up on making this just right. Tom was already all too aware from his observations that Bill got plenty of people approaching him; it made him bristle with a newfound instinct for possessiveness that he hadn't realized he'd owned, never having felt it before. This was different and Tom had to manage a way to make that clear from the outset.

There was something about Bill that bothered him very much. Finding his twin wasn't _exactly_ what he'd expected, though they hadn't even met in person. It was more, and it was...predatory, and Tom was worried about controlling himself; he wanted to do this right. 

He only had one chance to meet the other half of his soul for the first time, after all.

Tom folded his arms over his chest again and settled in for an afternoon of serious twin-watching.

***

The club glittered around Bill as roving light fixtures sparked off the hanging crystal-cut sculpture riveted to the ceiling. The music wasn't great but it was loud, with a steady thumping beat. Bill drained his drink, knee jittering to the rhythm as he tried to decide whether he was buzzed enough to dance, or if it was time for another round first.

"There he is again," Bill muttered under his breath, gazing across the club and beyond the dance floor at the long row of the bar.

"Did you say something?" Andreas yelled beside him, leaning in close to listen for Bill's response.

The heavy beat thudded through the club, stringing the bodies on the dance floor along in one swaying, oscillating pulse. It was an okay club, not spectacular; the silver-flecked black paint on the walls was peeling, the dance floor was sticky and rancid more often than not, and there weren't any dark corners to fuck in, but it was near campus and not too far a bus or cab hop from Bill's place. The drinks were cheap, and the crowd that frequented it was better than mediocre most nights. The other guys had picked it for their frequent haunt and Bill had gone along by default the first time. He kept going because he got laid when he wanted to and left alone when he didn't.

Today's stalker had put in an appearance at the club. Close enough for Bill to see him a bit better now, this stalker was a guy with long ashen-blond dreadlocks spilling over his shoulders, pulled up off his face with the redundancy of a sweatband on his brow and a cap pulled over that. His eyes were on Bill again, unblinking.

Bill knew because he could feel them like a laser sighting, even when Bill wasn't looking anywhere near the bar. Time to investigate and see if the guy was serious, or at least seriously hot.

"I said I need another drink!" Bill yelled, patting Andreas's knee to get him to move.

"Oh, I'll get--" Andreas moved too quickly, sloshing his drink and dripping it over his lap. He sat back into the booth with a groan.

Bill laughed and drummed his fingernails across Andreas's cheek as he stepped over him on his way out of the booth. "Cute, Andi. I can get my own drink."

He sashayed his way around the fringe of the dance floor, avoiding the outstretched grasping hands of would-be partners with a deft sidestep and a wide smile. All it took was a slight shake of the head, a glint of his eyes, and they'd draw away as though Bill had bared a glimpse of his inner demon.

At the bar, Bill didn't drape himself over the counter too close to his new admirer, but he didn't put too much space between them, either. He wanted to check the guy out, after all. The boy had a good face, nice bone structure, high cheekbones and full lips offset with a piercing at the lower corner and somewhat slanted eyes – he was hot. Bill was buzzed, but he knew hot. He also couldn't shake the sense that the guy was incredibly familiar.

The clothes, though. Bill shuddered as he kept appraising his stalker, and gave the bartender a wave when the man's head finally turned in his direction. If anything, distance had been kind to the boy's outfit. The clothes were a mess; baggy, shapeless, several sizes too large given the head and neck and hands, which were the only parts of him Bill could actually _see._

With no pause between one blink and the next the boy was beside him, between Bill and the next stool over, and Bill let himself turn and do the slow appraisal. He let his face show what he was thinking; good face, what the fuck is with the clothes. "You new to town, or to the club?" Bill spoke in a normal conversational tone. The pulse of the music was loud, beating through flesh and concrete, and most people would loudly yell, "what!?" or would seize the opportunity to lean in close to listen to him.

This boy did neither. "Both," he replied, sliding an empty glass along the counter between his hands. He straightened from his hunch over the counter. He was as tall as Bill, to within a hair. "I'm Tom." 

So close now, Bill could see the boy's eyes, not just sense them on him but look right into them. Tom's eyes were dark honey, they were caramel, they were hot to the core and lit Bill up from inside. They watched him, they warmed him.

"Bill," Bill introduced himself. He couldn't look away from Tom's intense eyes.

"I know," Tom said, confirming Bill's impression that the boy was a fan, maybe a stalker fan. 

Bill's lips curled up. He wasn't put off. Sometimes the stalker fans gave him the best sex, and he'd never had any trouble dumping their asses to the curb the next day.

"Can I buy you a drink?" Tom pressed, leaning in closer to Bill. One hand pressed flat against the surface of the bar.

Bill's eyes flicked downward. Long tapered fingers, strong knuckles, well-shaped hand overall. Tom had the kind of hands Bill liked best to have on his body.

"I don't know, can you?" Bill giggled, reaching out for the drink that the bartender placed in his hand. The man knew his order, of course, and had it made up for him by the time he got to Bill's end of the bar. Bill turned with a playful grin over his shoulder for Tom, skipping back around the edge of the dance floor to his friends, tipsy and feeling very clever.

Tom's eyes stayed on Bill. He stuck by the side of the bar, not giving chase for now.

Bill was the kind of guy who didn't mind getting his own drinks - to a point. It certainly staved off attempts from lust-crazed idiots who tried to spike his drinks with whatever aphrodisiacal or immobilizing concoction of the week was circulating around. For Bill, those only resulted in mild vertigo, a bad headache, and irritation over the prospect that someone thought he could be had so easily. After a certain point, usually when the tipsy had been superseded by the glow of goodwill, Bill was magnanimously prepared to receive drinks from friends and admirers.

Tonight with Tom watching him, Bill had stuck close to the table with his friends so far. He usually circulated a lot more, hobnobbing, flashing his smile everywhere. Bill liked to be _seen._ He was at a loss to explain his sudden caution other than the fact that Tom radiated a certain something. On some level, even though he was beyond buzzed, Bill sensed he'd be an idiot to ignore his instincts.

He couldn't resist an audience, though, and when Andreas got up to piss Bill slid out of the booth.

"Getting another round for us?" Georg slurred.

Bill laughed. "I don't know that you need one, you wussy lightweight." Georg was melting into the back of the booth and it couldn't be past ten.

"Hey!" Georg protested, but Bill was already bounding off into the crowd. It was getting late now, far past the end of most peoples' work shifts, bringing what passed for a full house on weeknights. Bill shimmied through the packed floor, writhing expertly out of hands that grasped for him.

Tom was waiting by the bar for him as he'd expected, not even trying to disguise his hot-eyed appraisal.

"Like what you see?" Bill murmured, easing into an open space beside Tom at the bar. He wasn't expecting an answer; the new song was thrumming loud enough to fragment crystal.

"Very much," Tom answered, too low for human ears but Bill caught it. He held out a drink, offering. "If you want it."

Bill raised a brow and accepted the glass. At a glance he could see it was his usual. Without breaking eye contact with Tom, he drained it half down. The burn of flavored vodka and a heady swirl of liqueur greeted him, and nothing more. He set the glass down. "So what brings you to town?"

Tom's sensual mouth had quirked up at one corner. "I came to find my brother," he replied. His dark eyes moved down the length of Bill's body and up again. "My twin. He was taken from me when we were really young."

"How awful for you," Bill replied mechanically, and drained the rest of his drink. He didn't do sob stories, and he was far more interested in the way Tom's warm brown eyes roved over him. He was already thinking ahead, hoping Tom wouldn't be a dud in the sack like some other guys his own age had been. The night was young, but hell, Bill had a feeling about Tom that went beyond 'good.' It jolted clear through him when their eyes met, which was often. It unsettled him.

Bill didn't feel powerfully about anything. He was carefree and unattached and he liked it that way. He would not, could not, be moved by someone he'd barely met and didn't know.

Yet Tom was already throwing him off his usual game. Bill was in the throes of goodwill-drunk, sure, but shouldn't Tom have come to him? That was how it worked. He frowned.

His eyes darted back to Tom, involuntarily, and Tom was frowning too. Bill's stomach lurched. There was something so familiar about Tom, but he couldn't place it... he stared unabashedly as Tom scowled down at the bar. Had he _seen_ him before? But he'd just come to town.

Bill lost his train of thought as Tom's tongue poked from the corner of his mouth and began to toy with the lip ring that circled the lower lip. It was a small but very sensual gesture and heat flared in Bill's lower belly at the sight. He could all too easily imagine that skillful tongue sliding low on his stomach, then lower...

"Look, Bill, would you--" Tom began.

"Come dance with me," Bill interrupted whatever Tom had been about to say, impulsively seizing the dreadlocked boy's wrist in order to tow him onto the dance floor.

A contact shock sparked through Bill, strong and hard enough to curl his fingers tighter around Tom's wrist as it coursed up his arm. Bill's mouth dropped open and he unclenched his fingers from the touch of Tom's skin, holding his hand protectively to his chest as Tom stared back at him, his face unreadable.

"All right," Tom said, pushing up from the bar and straightening to his full height. He brushed past Bill, giving him a sidelong glance that was full of challenge. "Let's dance."

Bill's skin was still tingling. Abruptly he wanted to see if it would happen again. He wanted to see if Tom's hot dark eyes could deliver what they promised. With a giddy laugh, he plunged toward the dance floor.

He felt like he was missing something, and not just because he was a little drunk and more than a little lust-hazed. Bill hated that. There was only one person that could give him answers or maybe jiggle his mind until he solved the puzzle, so Bill cast about in the crush of bodies. He sought Tom, tall as he was and sinewy strong hands and smoky brown stare and all. _Everything,_ his inner voice corrected, _Tom is everything._ Bill swung this way and that in the press of bodies, questioning that inner voice. What did that even mean?

"Tom!" Bill called out, frustrated, knowing somehow the other teen would hear him as Bill cast about, sidestepping overly familiar touches from men and women and the stylishly androgynous.

"Right here," a voice husked, and arms slipped around him.

Bill twisted around in Tom's arms and tried to glare into the chocolate dark eyes that were on a level with his, but Tom's hands were settling on his hips and they were both moving as one with the beat. As Tom's leg pressed between his and they settled against one another, rocking to the music, Bill couldn't find a protest in him. The beat was _hard,_ frantic, and Tom's leg was lean between Bill's under his oversized jeans.

They didn't dance so much as sway together, driving to the same beat and moving close. Bill's hands gripped Tom's shoulders and the dreadlocks tickled his knuckles, soft and more silken than he would have expected. This close, Bill could see they weren't all a uniform color. Some locks were darker, almost brown, although most were the light ashy blond that would show at Bill's roots if he waited too long between visits to the salon.

Bill wanted to push his fingers up into the soft fall of Tom's dreadlocks, and so he did.

His fingers encountered softness with the consistency of rough silk, real silk. Bill's fingers wandered up into Tom's hair and he found himself wondering what the dreadlocks would feel like, spilled not over Tom's shoulders but against his own naked skin, and his lips curved in a secretive smile.

Tom's hands on his hips pulled him nearer as the song shifted, taking a faster beat. Bill gasped a little as their bodies eased even closer, not swaying so much now as doing a good imitation of fucking, albeit clothed. Somehow even in the midst of closeness they were doing a fair job of avoiding the press of groins, though. Boldly Bill tangled his hands in Tom's dreadlocks, but not to angle for a kiss, as someone else might; he held Tom's head where it was and breathed hotly over Tom's neck. The pulse was throbbing in Tom's neck, calling Bill's attention, and the skin there smelled so tasty Bill wanted to rub his face against it, run his tongue over it.

His fingertips grazed the skin of Tom's neck, and they both twitched as the thrill of that contact curled through them. Touching Tom was still electric and Bill disentangled his hands from their tight grip on Tom's dreadlocks. Bill locked eyes with Tom again, and Tom was smirking at him now, the expression a more mischievous reflection of Bill's slow-curving smile.

Bill had to look away first. His limbs were heavy, even as he rolled in the embrace of the music and the crowd and the way Tom was winding himself around him. He didn't blush, he never blushed, but his cheeks were hot now and he struggled with the urge to bury his head in Tom's neck.

Not to hide, but to devour him alive.

In the close circle of Tom's arms, Bill was having trouble remembering what he normally did in this situation. He wasn't drunk, unless he could somehow get a contact high off the skin of Tom's neck, the scent rising there and the warm pulse Bill could put his mouth over and suck, and suck... Bill opened his eyes and drew away, putting millimeters then centimeters between their bodies as he avoided Tom's compelling eyes and looked around the club. He should break away and dance with someone else, he should bounce back up to the bar for another drink, he should circulate amongst the dozens of acquaintances scattered amongst the tables beyond the dance floor – even take Tom back to his friends.

The thought of bringing Tom over to the booth to meet friends, to meet anyone, suddenly made Bill want to squeeze his hands into fists and scream.

Then one of Tom's hands stroked over Bill's right hip, the tattooed hip, and his thumb brushed ever so lightly between the belted line of Bill's jeans and his tight shirt, drawing a line of prickling electricity over his skin that coursed right to Bill's groin.

Bill jerked in Tom's arms and he met Tom's eyes again. They were knowing, dark. His lips were parted and Bill moved in at the same time Tom did and they were kissing, a low needful sound escaping one or both their mouths that they crushed between them.

Even before they were done with their first kiss, as Tom's tongue tangled against his and their lips parted, pressed, ground together there was certainty in Bill's mind. _I am so having sex with this man._ If the small touches had been electric, being kissed by Tom was being ripped through with lightning, unpredictable and thrilling and painfully exciting.

Tom's mouth was supple against Bill's, his taste was alcohol and an indefinable something extra that sent Bill chasing his tongue in again and again, and _Tom's_ tongue, gods, his tongue lived up to the way he'd teased at his lip-ring.

When they broke, Bill was panting and it wasn't air deprivation. Lust coiled thick and strong in his belly. "More," he breathed against Tom's lips, forgetting he didn't beg, ever; he made them gag for it.

Tom gave him a smirk from beneath heavy-lidded eyes. "More what?" he prompted. "More dancing? More drinks? More..." He laughed, low, as Bill growled and reached up to fist Tom's dreadlocks and drag their mouths back together.

If the first kiss had been amazing, the next was nothing short of fucking phenomenal. Their mouths crashed together and Bill bit down on Tom's lip, not hard enough to make him bleed but aggressive, maybe a little punishing for Tom's unexpected effect on him. Tom only chuckled deep in his throat and pushed his tongue into Bill's mouth, rubbing against the stud in Bill's tongue, then stroking expertly around tongue, teeth and gums. Bill 'oomphed' into the kiss and ground closer, aware on some level they weren't even dancing anymore, they were swaying in vague rhythm to the beat and sucking face.

One of Tom's hands stroked over his lower back, over Bill's t-shirt. He'd been so careful not to touch Bill's skin since that thumb against Bill's hip.

It made Bill want to yank Tom closer, peel his own shirt off, see if Tom would respond to the challenge. What dark look would enter his eyes then?

The thought of stripping for Tom in a crowd of sweaty bodies was compelling but it made Bill surface from the kiss like a man drowning.

"We can't," he gasped, letting up on his grip in Tom's dreadlocks.

Tom pulled his mouth away from Bill and his eyes flashed. "All right," he muttered, low enough for anyone but someone of Bill's keen hearing to miss in the thumping club beat. His mouth compressed to an angry line.

"Not here," Bill continued, throwing Tom a puzzled glance for the sudden storm-cloud that lowered the other teen's brow. Tom looked back at him, anger shifting to something unreadable, and Bill bestowed him with one of the more seductive looks in his repertoire, lighting up inside at Tom's instant response. Tom dragged Bill closer with the anchor of his hands on Bill's hips, and leaned in to inhale deeply beside Bill's neck. It was normally a move Bill would find creepy and distasteful - if the person weren't Tom. Considering Bill wanted to do the same thing, inhale Tom's scent as though it brought him oxygen, he could only find it sexy.

"If we keep, um, dancing--" Bill suppressed an undignified giggle as Tom's lips tickled almost over his neck "--I'm going to start tearing clothes off." His or Tom's, he hadn't quite decided. He wanted to run Tom's shirt up and see if the body was as good as the face, but Bill recognized on some level that if he got started, he wasn't going to be able to stop.

Tom glanced around the packed club as though someone might be listening, then licked once at his piercing. "Come to my place?"

Bill couldn't quite help the scoff that emerged. "Your place, do you even have a place?" he questioned. "How old are you?" Sexy as he was, inexplicably irresistible as Bill found the touch of his skin and the scent rising off him, Tom did look like he could still be in high school with his outsized clothes.

"Seventeen," Tom replied coolly, and slid his hands from Bill's hips to his waist, reeling him even closer. "Same as you."

The words were like a warning. Bill clutched at Tom's shoulders and struggled with deja vu. _I know you,_ he almost said, but that was crazy.

"I don't know," Bill demurred. Gods, it was still early, had he ever left a club so early unless it was on fire?

"I have a hotel room," Tom said, low and right in his ear, lips brushing the rim. "Not far."

Bill shuddered and gathered himself to push Tom away because this wasn't him, he didn't go with the first hot guy or girl to buy him a drink. He'd find someone else to dance with for a while, he'd make Tom wait and build steam, he'd put some distance between their bodies because touch was too risky. Then Tom's hands moved down over Bill's waist and grabbed Bill's ass in a firm, possessive grip, brushing on the way over the skin of his lower back exposed where his shirt had ridden up.

"Oh, my gods," Bill groaned, pushing at Tom's chest, but not to get away. He brought his mouth to Tom's and nibbled briefly on Tom's lip piercing. He wasn't drunk anymore, but he didn't want more booze. He wanted Tom to grab his ass harder, he wanted bare skin and lots of it, he wanted to be fucked. 

"What do you want, Bill?" Tom asked, bending to speak the question into his neck, then breathing in Bill's scent.

"Get me the fuck out of here," Bill said hoarsely. "Now. But my place, not yours."

Tom twitched in his arms as though he hadn't expected that answer, but he lifted his head, fixed Bill with his dark eyes, and curved his lips into a cocky, assured smile.

It flicked raw against Bill's nerves, the certainty in that little smile, though Bill was already all but set to strip for him. He tugged at Tom's dreadlocks hard enough that it should have been painful, but Tom's grin only widened.

"Normally I make my prey wait the whole night, you know, until the bar closes," Bill said, leaning in to deliver the line sharply. It was early yet, he wanted to imply; he could certainly slip Tom's grasp on him and find someone else to dance with.

Not to fuck with, though. Bill was just as certain as that infuriating grin of Tom's; the two of them were going to have sex tonight.

Eyes glittering, Tom leaned right back and spoke beside Bill's mouth. "You think I'm prey?"

Flustered, Bill pushed at Tom's chest to gain that little bit of space he needed to think, to breathe. "I'm not sure," he replied as though musing, though his wiser inner voice was screaming, _not prey, not prey, this one is out of any league you've ever played before._

_Still going home with him,_ Bill informed his inner voice, hoping it would shut up. Tom's fingers curved on Bill's ass, digging into the lower swell closer now to the crease, and Bill was torn between smacking Tom, hard, and spreading for him right there on the dance floor.

"Eros and Bangan," Bill swore in a rasp. Did he affect Tom this much? Bill needed to find out. He pulled one hand away from the radiating heat of Tom's chest and went low, moving as if to grip Tom's belt on his low-slung jeans. Instead he pushed his hand up under voluminous folds of baggy shirt, his fingers seeking flesh. He delved inward and suddenly he was stroking against velvety-soft skin over hard muscle. Bill poked his tongue into the corner of his mouth as he explored, then looked at Tom when his actions were greeted with a sudden intake of breath.

Tom's dark eyes burned into his, gleaming suddenly iridescent in the strobing light of the club. He hauled Bill close, his mouth descending on Bill's lips and catching him with his tongue still wedged to one side. Bill swallowed an undignified squeak and kissed back, palming what felt like washboard stomach muscle. They kissed hungrily and one of them was making noises, hell, maybe both of them were; Bill was crowding close and he didn't care about what he usually did, anymore, he didn't care that he wasn't _that_ boy, he wasn't desperate. He knew one thing right now and it involved 'Tom' and 'naked.'

Bill actually started to pull his shirt up in response to that compelling thought, after managing to extract his hand from Tom's immense shirt and the galvanic charge of his skin. Their mouths were still locked together, Tom's tongue urgently stroking his.

Tom broke the kiss, gripping Bill by the shoulders. "Not here," he said, his voice gravelly now.

Bill blinked and looked around. There was still music all around them, pounding over the dance floor in wave after wave. There were people bumping and grinding all around them, close-packed enough to form a moving screen of bodies, which explained how no one had noticed how close Bill Trumper had come to stripping for his pick-up on the dance floor.

"Let's go," Bill agreed, and was delighted by the slow blossom of Tom's smile. When Tom offered his hand, Bill took it, trying to ignore the jolt that burned up his arm. Maybe he'd get used to it. Gods, maybe he'd never stop craving it.

"Your place," Tom said, and Bill nodded, biting his lip to clamp down on a grin.

They led each other off the dance floor and Bill turned his head toward his usual booth. He threw a wave gaily in the general direction of his friends. Gustav looked shocked and pushed up as though to follow, Andreas made huge sad eyes as though Bill had broken his heart, and Georg was clearly drunk. Despite that he'd somehow managed to reel in two girls at once who were slumped to either side of him. Bill grinned at his friends and leaned against Tom's shoulder, knowing they'd get the message. 

"Wait, my bar tab!" Bill remembered, digging his heels in as they reached the nominally quieter strip of the entryway. The coat-check girl was giving them a wide smile, but her eyes kept shifting back and forth from Tom to Bill and she looked starved. She dug up Bill's stylish handbag without asking for his ticket.

"I paid it," Tom said, tugging his hand to keep them moving for the door.

Bill objected, "But I wasn't done for the night!"

"Trust me, I paid for the whole night," Tom assured him, turning a crooked and very confident smile on him.

"Fuck me," Bill said, shaken. He couldn't remember someone going that far for him before. Offers of dinner, sure, that Bill usually turned down after he'd gotten what he wanted.

"Oh, I'm gonna fuck you," Tom spoke directly into Bill's ear as they tumbled out the front door of the club. He hauled Bill in close to his side with a firm grip on his ass.

Bill groaned, stretching luxuriantly against Tom. "Yes, yes please," he breathed back. It was taking every ounce of his willpower not to hook a leg around Tom and rub up against him right there out in the open. He'd never been so hungry for it, and he'd never ditched out on his friends so early when they were at the clubs. It wasn't anywhere close to midnight!

"You have a car?" Bill demanded, grabbing a loose fistful of Tom's huge shirt and reeling him in for another scorching kiss. The question was somewhat derisive; Tom was Bill's age, after all, and seventeen year olds didn't usually go about with their own rides. Bill's friend Andreas was an exception and his car was crap.

Tom released Bill's mouth and one of his brows rose in an uncanny mimicry of a gesture Bill used often. "I hired one; I figured I'd be drinking." He lifted a hand and a black car with tinted windows backed out of one of the club parking spaces, gliding for the entrance of the club.

Both of Bill's brows rose. Tom didn't look as though he had that kind of money to throw around. "Convenient," he said, somewhat reluctantly impressed. Then Tom's fingers flexed on his ass and Bill turned against him, pressing his nose against Tom's neck and inhaling skin musk and the trace of a delicious cologne. Maybe it was all Tom. Fuck, he smelled good. Bill was hard in his jeans, aching, and he crowded against Tom with a low hungry noise. _Fuck me,_ the thought pounded through his head, surely loud enough for Tom to hear it.

Tom angled his head in to capture Bill's mouth from the side and their tongues tangled so fiercely Bill's tongue stud was ground between them. Lips and teeth, tongues thrusting, Bill grappled back and forth with Tom. As they worked deeper into the kiss Bill found himself wrapped around Tom, arms and even one traitorous leg, and both of Tom's hands were on Bill's ass now to keep him close.

One short honk broke their feverish kiss and Tom's head lifted, lips parting from Bill's with reluctance, tongue giving one last swipe against the roof of Bill's mouth. "I'm going to kill him," Tom muttered absently, one hand clenching on Bill's buttock.

"No, let's go," Bill said, sense returning in a brief burst of realization. He'd probably be banned for life from his favorite club if he got himself nailed in the parking lot, no matter how irresistible the guy was. Tom was still all around him, though, so entwined with him, and Frigg but Bill wanted it. "I want to, I want you to take me to my place, Tom." He mustered enough self control to pull away and grabbed only Tom's hand instead.

Tom gave him a lopsided grin that made Bill want to go down on his knees then and there. "So let's hurry."

Tom pulled away from him as they climbed into the car. Bill crawled in beside him, puzzled as Tom arranged himself against the far window, setting a hand against his knee in a pose that wasn't entirely welcoming. He rested his chin on his hand and his visible eye flicked in Bill's direction. "Give him the address?"

Bill looked over the seat back and into the driver's eyes, which met his in the rearview mirror. He gave the driver his address then ignored the seatbelt – the car wreck that could put a dent in Bill's hide had yet to manifest – and sprawled across the length of the back seat, paying no heed to the personal bubble of space that Tom had unexpectedly thrown around himself.

"Well?" Bill demanded, pushing his hips up a bit, demanding attention with commanding tone and the lithe stretch of his body.

Tom looked down at him, and his hand went into Bill's hair, petting, stroking his teased-out black mane. An array of expressions worked across his face, and it was like reading fine print off a cramped scroll half a room away; difficult, Bill had to concentrate at it, but he got the meaning just fine. Confusion, concern, overwhelming lust, hesitance, a flicker of anger, something Bill didn't quite recognize that was soft and somehow reminded him of his mother Simone, then lust again. It all closed down and Tom was giving him cool, cautious eyes.

"Maybe we should--" Tom began. There was a 'no' veiled somewhere in his voice.

"Shut up," Bill growled, twisting until he was up on his knees. He ignored the plush interior of the car and dug his boot-heels into the seat beneath him, bracing himself up against Tom and pressing two adamant fingers over Tom's sensual lips. "Unless the next words out of your mouth are, 'get back to your place as fast as possible so that I can fuck you, Bill,' I don't want to hear it."

Brown eyes never leaving his, Tom nodded once.

Bill removed his hand, biting down on his lip without realizing. His belly was swirling with anxiety now as well as the lust. He'd never been turned down – and he'd never _wanted_ what was before him quite so much as he did now.

Tom's mouth quirked. "We should get back to your place as fast as possible, Bill, so that I can fuck you."

Bill shivered and a huge, delighted grin broke across his features.


	3. Chapter Three

They made out in the car on the way over to Bill's place like the horny teenagers they were. Tom's hands roamed over Bill as they kissed, stroking from chest to thigh and back again, but he was careful not to touch bare skin, and Bill knew the reason. It was enough their tongues were touching, their mouths slanting together soft then urgent, Tom's piercing pressing hard enough into his lip to bruise a normal person. Bill only made a helplessly hungry noise and wound his arms around Tom, dragging their bodies as close as they could get in clothes. Tom deepened the kiss and let Bill into his mouth at the same time.

They necked and petted frantically until the sound of the driver clearing his throat penetrated Bill's lust-clouded mind. The noise had an irked edge as though the man had had to do so many times.

"We're here?" Bill gasped, and realized that the car had stopped moving. "Fuck, let's go." Tom's low-voiced promise was battering through his brain, _gonna fuck you,_ and Bill was on overdrive. He grabbed Tom's wrist, careful to touch fabric and not skin, and hauled them out of the car.

Tom slammed the car door shut behind him. Once he reached the curb, Bill towed them aggressively for the front door of his apartment building.

Bill had a fabulous apartment in a shit section of town. He had his own apartment because he could afford it, and the college dorm had kicked him out after half a semester of noisy sex and smashed cinderblocks and beds rendered into matchsticks. Rent at his new apartment was low because the security was nonexistent and the crime rate was appalling, neither of which bothered Bill. He got people attempting to mug or jump him all the time; the only reason he left them maimed and not dead was because the paperwork for "it was self-defense" was so tiresome. Eventually the repeat offenders in his neighborhood had learned to avoid Bill, and Bill was happy he didn't have to keep replacing blood-spattered shoes or clothing.

The elevator had been broken since a week after Bill had moved in - that one hadn't been Bill's fault. Because it wasn't operating, though, the only option was the stairs. 

Bill dragged Tom into the deserted stairwell and thought they were going to lose it right there.

They had been making good progress, moving swiftly from car to building, entryway to stairwell. Maybe it had been momentum. Once they crashed through the door to the stairwell together, Bill skidded and Tom hauled on his arm. Their eyes met and suddenly Bill was being slammed against the far wall, Tom's hot mouth closing over his and moving hard over his lips. Bill groaned and bit down on Tom's tongue as it slid into his mouth; he scrabbled at the front of Tom's shirt for a hold, then clenched his hands and jerked as Tom tongued his mouth as though he were fucking him. Bill pounded a fist into the wall behind him.

It made a sound like a gunshot and Tom straightened, detaching his mouth from Bill's, one hand coming up to cup the side of Bill's face. "Upstairs?" Tom husked.

Bill nodded dumbly and seized a handful of Tom's oversized shirt, dragging Tom up the stairs before Tom could look beyond Bill at the hole in the wall, and ask any libido-quelling awkward questions.

They raced up the stairs together and as Tom started to take them two by two Bill found himself having to push himself to keep up. He wasn't used to that. As they reached the top floor they were both grinning and Bill laughed in sheer exhilaration. He was stretching his wings; he could probably step off the landing and fly.

Tom stuck close to Bill as they stepped into the top floor hall, all but molding himself to his backside. Bill fumbled with the front door and gave a split second's consideration to simply tearing the lock out. The key finally went in and turned, though, and they tumbled inside. Tom's mouth found the back of his neck and Bill hurled his handbag in the general direction of the spindly table by the door. He laughed as he heard something shatter and he turned in Tom's arms, walking backward toward the bedroom, tangling his fingers into Tom's dreadlocks.

Tom slanted in to take Bill's mouth again and Bill parted his lips, eager. He wanted everything all at once. He wanted skin and naked and now. He'd never been so thoroughly turned on before from only kissing and petting; already Bill was ready for Tom to spread him and they'd barely touched skin to skin.

With a groan, Tom pulled his mouth from Bill's. "Get this off," he husked, stroking the fabric of the t-shirt over Bill's belly.

Bill yanked it up over his head with alacrity and tossed it aside, a little surprised when nothing ripped. Tom swooped in on him at once, hands pressing against Bill's belly, skimming around to his bare lower back, mouth tracing a hot wet line across Bill's collarbones as he steered Bill backward through the apartment. Bill cried out, stunned at how good those hands felt on him, that mouth playing over him - they were barely doing anything yet but everything, anything was so good.

Bill sank a hand into the soft pile of Tom's dreadlocks, tugging Tom's head, trying to direct him. The backs of his knees hit something unyielding and Tom toppled them over onto Bill's unmade bed. Fleetingly, Bill gave thanks to the fact that the sheets were freshly laundered; it was so tacky to fall into bed with someone when the bed smelled of someone else's sex. Then Tom's hands were roaming up Bill's torso, drawing his attention back to the essentials. Tom circled his thumbs over Bill's nipples as their mouths locked again, feeding as though the only sustenance they could draw was from one another.

"Bill," Tom moaned into his mouth, and his hands were on Bill's hips, rubbing at the top edge of his belted jeans.

Helpfully Bill lifted himself, but all that movement did was push him up into Tom's groin. They both moaned, now, and Tom locked an arm around Bill's neck and tongued his mouth open, stroking an ardent, calloused hand up Bill's side as though playing a willful instrument. Bill fumbled with his buckle, a part of his mind bemused to realize his hands were trembling, and he gave up trying to work the complicated clasp after Tom began to tongue hotly down his neck, biting down ever so gently on Bill's pulse point. Bill ripped his belt off and didn't even care that it was one of his favorites as he chucked it too far for Tom to notice the dents in the metal buckle.

"Now," Bill hissed, mouthing at Tom's ear, pleased when Tom stroked roughly down his body and took hold of his jeans, tugging them off. He squirmed, mostly naked against Tom's clothed body now, and wanting more of those hands and mouth on him. He'd never had such a craving for someone else's skin before. It wasn't just being touched, though... he wanted the electric current of Tom's bare flesh spread all against him, naked to naked. He yanked hard on Tom's dreads, disengaging Tom's mouth from mapping down his breastbone. "Get up, kneel over me."

Tom raised a brow at him as though surprised at Bill's commanding tone. He licked briefly at his lip piercing, then grinned and pushed himself up off Bill, kneeling beside him.

Bill sat up, reaching for Tom's cap. It had been knocked askew at some point during the flurry of kissing. He raised his brows as he pinched the bill of the cap, sure that Tom would give him some sign if he didn't want Bill manhandling his cap or hair. Then again, given the way Bill had been using his dreadlocks like reins...

Tom said nothing, biting down on his lip. His eyes were expectant.

Bill yanked Tom's cap off with a relieved chuckle and tossed it the way of his own abandoned clothing. He pulled Tom's sweatband off, too. Tom shook his head a little, sending dreadlocks coursing over his shoulders, but Bill wasn't done yet. He dived in close and gripped the hem of Tom's shirt, stripping the baggy offending garment off.

Tom sat back on his haunches as Bill sprawled back against the bed with Tom's shirt in his arms. He had to lie there and glory for a moment in the lean body and taut muscles he'd uncovered. 

"Gorgeous," Bill gloated. "Pants too."

Tom's mouth smirked and his eyes raked up Bill. "I'll trade you pants if you get rid of the boyshorts."

"Deal," Bill said immediately. He brought Tom's shirt to his face in a quick gesture, sniffing the fabric – gods, it was definitely Tom, it wasn't cologne – before tossing the shirt by the wayside. Then he splayed himself back, not being subtle whatsoever as he lifted his hips and divested himself of the last of his clothing, making sure that Tom had a good view of pretty much everything.

Tom had shed the oversized jeans as Bill did his shimmy-and-depants. It hadn't taken much – the jeans had fallen down Tom's hips the moment his belt was undone, and all he had to do was kick the ridiculous things off his legs. He threw them over the foot of the bed along with a pair of boxers. The rest of his body was every bit as lean and toned as his torso had promised.

Bill's mouth watered. He crawled toward Tom on his hands and knees, looking up through the fringe of his eyelashes and bangs. "You've got such a nice body. Why do you keep it covered with such baggy clothes?"

Tom pushed his hips forward, his erect cock striking near Bill's mouth, painting him with a moist kiss of pre-come. "Because where I come from, these clothes _aren't_ in style," he replied.

Bill's lips curled. "Contrary boy."

Tom merely smirked at him, looming over him.

Bill looked up the lean sun-kissed length of naked body - Tom clearly tanned in the nude, and Bill was appreciative - and didn't even know where to start. "We are going to have so much sex," he told Tom, not even needing to ask whether Tom would be good for all night. He would. Bill would make sure of it.

Tom's eyes darkened and he lowered himself over Bill, kneeling on the bed and dipping in to kiss at his mouth. As Bill smoothed exploring fingers over Tom's nape, Tom eased to one side of him, kissing down Bill's jaw, his neck, taking hold of Bill's hard, crimson cock in one hand.

"Ohh so good," Bill gasped out, his head going back as Tom's well-calloused fingers stroked and squeezed his cock. Tom kissed down his throat and kept wanking him, sliding foreskin back from the glans with thumb and forefinger and making Bill cry out, shoving up into Tom's expert grip.

He was vaguely aware of Tom's lips traveling downward, pressing against his skin from the hollow of his throat on down to his navel, but the greater share of Bill's consciousness was on Tom's hand pumping his cock just right, fast but not too fast, alternating occasionally with slow considering tugs that ended with a stroke to his balls. Then Tom's tongue circled his navel and Bill's whole body jerked.

"Yes, yes, Tom," Bill chanted, finding his hands where they were draped loosely now over Tom's shoulders and sending them up into Tom's hair, stroking over the shaggy fall of his loose dreadlocks.

Tom grinned up the length of Bill's torso, an unexpectedly impish look. It sent another tug through Bill's vitals, a spike of deja vu, the unshakable conviction that he _knew_ this person, somehow. Then Tom was dipping an open-mouthed kiss into Bill's navel and Bill writhed, all other thought dissolving.

Bill was panting. He bit down on his lip, hard, and stroked his fingertips across Tom's high cheekbones. He could feel Tom's smile under his hands while Tom's mouth and tongue played over the skin of Bill's belly as though they had all the time in the world.

"Are you gonna suck it?" he questioned Tom, his voice coming out hoarse as though he'd already been fucked.

Tom pressed a kiss to the star tattoo on Bill's right hip, flicking his hot, wet tongue out over the skin there. "Maybe," he said, shifting his weight until most of it was on Bill's legs. He kissed the star again, then traced a damp line around the center with his tongue. "You want me to?"

"Yes," Bill groaned, the word ripping free of him with surprising force. "Yes, you know I want you to. Suck it, Tom, come on..." His hips rose of their own accord but didn't get very far; the weight of Tom's upper body was slung across them.

It was embarrassing for a guy as all-around sexually irresistible as Bill to admit – if Bill got embarrassed, which he really didn't, but the thought might count – but Bill did not get a lot of head. The people he'd slept with, men and women, tended to skip over oral for the main event. Bill liked getting head - liked giving it even more, especially when it involved sucking cock. Yet he'd resigned himself over the years since he'd rid himself of his troublesome virginity at twelve to getting not much more than a lick and a promise before penetration.

Now he found himself flat on his back under Tom, and he fully expected Tom to give him a perfunctory blow before crawling back up the bed to offer a kiss in exchange for fucking. Only now Tom was breathing on him, stirring Bill's aching cock with steamy breath and rubbing Bill's hips with his lovely calloused hands. His eyes were lowered and Bill couldn't make out his expression.

Bill could only watch, breath speeding up in anticipation, maybe apprehension, as Tom shaped Bill's cock upright with one hand, the other still stroking over Bill's hip. He pointed Bill's cock right for his own mouth then swallowed the head at once. He sucked, hollowing out his cheeks and sliding Bill's cock into his mouth to the back of his throat. Bill shouted, bucking instinctively, but Tom's strong hand on his hip kept him down.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," Bill heard himself crying out, as his cock was stroked in and out of Tom's hot wet mouth, all suction and the faintest hint of teeth on the shaft the way he liked it, nowhere near the head. Tom was working his cock back and forth in his nimble hand and his dreadlocks were tickling Bill's belly and thighs and through it all the one hand remained rock-steady on Bill's star tattoo, pressing him flat whenever Bill tried to push up for more. Tom was going to take care of him, that hand told him insistently. "Yes, oh god yes you are, oh my gods below."

Tom's other hand had been jerking steadily at the base of Bill's cock, drifting down to roll Bill's balls in his palm, and then his graceful fingers skipped up to twist again at the shaft, altogether a phenomenal display of multi-tasking. Now as the soft wet sounds continued, clamping Bill's cock in Tom's mouth and throat, that free hand stroked down past Bill's perineum and fingered around the pucker of Bill's anus.

Even blissed out in the midst of perhaps the best blow job of his life – Bill was withholding judgment; he was still young – a weary part of his mind cynically noted _here we go._ Five minutes of fellatio and Tom was angling for the ass.

Tom's hand returned to his balls, though. Then back to the base of Bill's cock, and he was pumping Bill into his mouth and tonguing at the head and – "Oh my GOD," Bill moaned, fervent and scrabbling for Tom's dreadlocks to express appreciation for that talented tongue. He was trying his best not to plead, but more and harder and coming were all essential concepts to Bill right now. "Tom, Tom... I need... ugh, Tom..."

The mouth pulled free of Bill's cock with a wet luxuriant sound. "I know what you need," Tom whispered against his inner thigh, leaning back and gathering his legs beneath him.

Bill almost rolled his eyes, intuiting this to mean penetration, but then he was profoundly confused when Tom stayed where he was, urging Bill to push his legs up at the knees. Bill was limber; his legs folded up easily to his chest and put all of him down there on display. He looked along the length of his body at Tom's face, so intent, and watched Tom bite at his piercing before leaning in.

Tom lapped at his balls, bracing one hand on Bill's thigh to keep him open. The other hand kept moving over Bill's cock in slow perfect strokes.

"Nng," Bill protested, because it was _too_ slow, but somehow he knew if he wriggled now, disciplinary measures would be instituted. Just because it didn't really hurt didn't mean he wanted to get smacked.

Tom paused while mouthing over one of Bill's balls, peering over Bill's belly and where he was fisting Bill's leaking erection, giving him what Bill could only categorize as a charming grin. "What do you want, Bill?"

Bill couldn't decide if he wanted more tonguing on his balls or Tom's mouth on his cock again. "More," he whimpered, pushing his ass toward Tom in lieu of making any kind of real choice. "Damn it, Tom, just...more!"

Tom nodded, his eyes shuttering all dark and serious and he bent his head again, licking a hot wet stripe down the center of Bill's scrotum.

"Mmmn," Bill keened. Close but not quite enough.

Tom's hand jerked a little faster, now, and his tongue probed down across Bill's perineum, laving across the sensitive bit of skin again and again. It sent Bill's head back and he clawed at the sheets, careful to let up when the fabric began to tear under his grip. Then Tom let go of his cock and both hands were pressing against the underside of Bill's thighs right under his butt, lifting him open and almost off the bed.

"What are you...ohhh..." Bill moaned.

Tom's tongue was circling his hole now. He lapped at it, his lip ring bumping repeatedly against Bill's hole as he gave it wet, thorough kisses.

"Oh Tom, oh Tom, Tom Tom Tom," Bill chanted mindlessly. He didn't care about anything now except Tom's warm breath gusting over his ass, the squirm of his tongue delving in his crease and licking at his hole, the gentle insistent pressure of Tom's hands keeping him open as Tom ate his ass out, making the most decadent noises like he was really enjoying it. "Ahh, _please!_ Please, Tom, please make me come!" He was so close, he was almost there, it was building all through him and tightening his balls.

Tom stuck his tongue into Bill's hole, actually penetrating him with it a little before he pulled back and descended on Bill's cock again, swallowing him down. A finger circled Bill's saliva-wet pucker then sank in as Tom worked Bill's cock into his throat. One finger was joined by a second and they sank into Bill, connecting with his prostate like a live wire being triggered.

Bill screamed and thrashed, nearly throwing Tom off him as his legs uncoiled like springs from his chest; the man pinned him down by palming his star tattoo again. He'd hit it, gods, Tom had hit that spot unerringly, first try – _no one_ did that!

Tom sucked him insistently, cheeks hollowing around Bill's length, tongue busily lashing at the exposed head of Bill's cock. At the same time his fingers worked into Bill's ass and jammed against his prostate like it was a target.

"I know you," Bill gasped as his orgasm crested up and over to roll him like a tidal wave. "I know you, I do... Tom... Tom, Tom, _Tomi._ " He almost had it, then, but it washed away under the expanding supernova of his orgasm. His head sank back and he clutched appreciatively at Tom's rough silken dreadlocks as though they were his only lifeline as he came all over Tom's tongue.

Bill drifted back to himself in a glow of utter full-body relaxation, basking in the thrum of perfect harmony that followed such a toe-curling climax. He wriggled happily onto his side to face Tom and opened his eyes, meeting Tom's dark brown gaze in the dimness of his bedroom. They'd been in such a hurry they hadn't even turned on any lights. Not that Bill needed one; he was of the Nephilim strain with keen night vision.

Tom's hand was stroking over Bill's naked side, a slow drag of his fingers back and forth. His expression was contemplative, waiting, and his hand was the only part of him currently touching Bill - he wasn't making a point of digging his hard cock into Bill's flesh. He leaned onto his elbow and brushed an almost chaste kiss over Bill's mouth, tongue flicking out at the last to swipe over Bill's bottom lip, then the top one.

"Good?" Tom asked, looking into Bill's eyes.

Bill rolled onto his back and bit his lip. "It was okay," he said nonchalantly. He turned his head away as his expression contorted; he couldn't keep a straight face.

Tom's low chuckle made it clear he wasn't fooled; he pinched Bill's stomach and Bill flipped onto his side, bringing himself nose to nose with Tom again. Tom regarded him with one brow hiked and Bill couldn't control his expression; he dissolved into a euphoric grin.

"Of course it was good," Bill said, smacking at Tom's chest. "You know it was good, you were there. You made me come so hard I forgot who I was." He smirked and pressed his lips to Tom's.

Tom responded enthusiastically, kissing Bill hard and crowding against him, rolling him onto his back. With a pleased little noise, Bill hooked his arms around Tom, smoothing his hands up and down the flat planes of his shoulder blades, the flawless stretch of his lower back, raking his nails in the dip to either side of Tom's spine. Now Bill had Tom's cock digging into him, crushed between their lower bellies as their mouths locked together. They kissed hard, Tom's teeth denting Bill's lower lip, their tongues meeting and shoving and twining, and Bill's belly was tingling, heavy with building arousal again.

Tom thrust against him, slow, making Bill's belly stir even more, and he tore his mouth from Tom's. Undeterred, Tom mapped a wet path down Bill's jaw toward the base of his ear.

"What do you want?" Bill murmured, stroking Tom's back as Tom sucked on his pulse. "Tell me what you want, it's yours."

Tom shivered atop him, so fine a tremor that Bill was unsure it had actually happened. He pulled off Bill's neck with a final lick for the skin he'd been mouthing and hovered above Bill, his eyes dilated wide with arousal. "I want," he grated, and cleared his throat.

Bill squeezed the upper swell of Tom's ass in his hands, wriggling a little beneath the weight of Tom's body. "Anything," he promised recklessly, his voice breathy. He'd never offered himself up like this before. He'd never wanted to.

Tom's breath caught and he ducked his head to kiss Bill again, parting his lips with his own and rubbing their mouths together, no tongue. He groaned into Bill's mouth and thrust his cock wetly against Bill's stomach, then tore away panting.

"Suck me," Tom gritted, his eyes glinting to Bill's sight even in the darkness of the bedroom. "I want you to suck my cock."

Bill hummed happily at the demand, thrilled both by what Tom wanted from him and the raw need in Tom's voice. He'd fully expected Tom to flip him over and ride him to completion, but they were still in total accord - Tom wanted what Bill wanted. And Bill had wanted to get his mouth on Tom's dick since the hard, slick red tip of it had cleared Tom's boxers.

"Let me up," he ordered.

Tom growled and hunched over him, licking again at Bill's neck, biting into the pulse point and Bill grunted, digging his sharp nails into Tom's sides.

"Let me up," he repeated, "or I'm not going to suck it."

Tom seemed to consider this, hesitating against Bill's neck, then he moved fluidly from his crouch over Bill onto hands and knees. He rolled off onto the side, deeper into the bed, and tucked his hands behind his head.

Bill pushed himself up onto his elbows, grinning stupidly. He hadn't even gotten his mouth on it and he was enjoying himself this much. He reached for the bedside lamp and Tom's foot nudged at his ankle.

"What do you need that for?" Tom's low voice caressed over him.

Bill shrugged, clambering up into a sitting position. "To see you," he replied. He didn't need the light, honestly, because his eyes were already adjusted to the near-black of his nighttime bedroom, but most of his lovers wanted to be able to see him.

"You can see me just fine," Tom said. "Come over here."

Bill grinned; Tom sounded as eager as he felt. "All right, if you don't mind the dark."

"What dark?" Tom scoffed. "I can see every bit of you." His voice deepened on a lewd note toward the end.

Delighted, Bill crawled over the mussed sheets that, to his acute senses, already smelled of a sweaty amalgam of him and Tom. He wanted _more._ He stroked over Tom's thighs as he approached, enjoying the near-hairless surface of Tom's body. Like Bill's own, Tom had very little body hair overall and Bill preferred that in his lovers as well.

He took a moment to skim his eyes over the length of Tom's naked body, enjoying and appraising. Tom was lean; he had a wiry frame, but it was packed with muscle without being overly bulky. He had a whipcord build, rather like Bill's, but with more definition. Bill wondered if Tom worked out or did some kind of labor for a living.

He arranged himself between Tom's thighs and took his first really good look at Tom's cock now that his own overwhelming lust was no longer fogging his brain.

Bill's first reaction was unthinking pleasure. He'd noticed Tom's cock already, of course, but now he was in a position to get a good look at him. He reached out to take Tom in hand; he was long and just the right amount of thick. Perfect, Bill thought to himself, though he wouldn't share that with Tom, who was plenty sure of himself already. Bill scooted closer between Tom's thighs. Saliva collected in his mouth as he eyed Tom's smooth, hard shaft. Bill admired everything, from the balls to the wink of head within foreskin.

So familiar, the thought chased through Bill's head briefly, and a frown flitted over his brow as he bent over Tom's stomach. Not just familiar. Bill's frown cleared. Tom's cock was a near-exact replica of his own. He grinned widely; he was such a narcissist. No wonder he'd thought Tom had the perfect cock.

"Something funny?" Tom prompted, sounding amused, if a little impatient.

"Enjoying my prize," Bill said smugly, then slid down to brace himself over Tom's thighs. He licked his lips once then went right for it, fitting the head of Tom's cock into his mouth and pushing the foreskin back with his lips, rolling his tongue and stud piercing around the glans.

Tom groaned immediately, pushing his hips up in the smallest of motions, but not diving in to fuck Bill's mouth. Bill appreciated that, considering he was using one hand to rub the shaft of Tom's cock, jacking him into his mouth. His other hand tugged at Tom's sac, cupping and rolling the balls within. He didn't have a hand to spare. 

He sucked harder, tonguing the slit of Tom's dick and swallowing down the first burst of pre-come. He was hoping if he was good enough, quick enough, he'd get to drink Tom down, but if Tom wanted to finish in his ass, he'd take a lot of pleasure from that too.

Tom inhaled a huge lungful of air above him as Bill stretched his lips further, slurping down the length of Tom's cock. "Bill," he moaned, hands going into Bill's hair, blunt fingernails grating over his scalp. "Ah, Bill, yes. You suck it so good."

Bill wriggled down further until he was almost on his belly in the sheets. _Gonna make you come,_ he thought happily as he swallowed Tom down. Bill had heard of people having trouble with that part of oral, the deep-throating, but he'd never had a gag reflex and the lack had served him well. The head of Tom's cock hit the back of his throat and slid down the tight channel with ease.

Tom shouted, something incoherent but very sincere, and his hands dug frantically through Bill's hair.

Bill half-closed his eyes now as he devoted himself to his favorite part, working his throat and stretched-open mouth over as much of Tom's length as he could take. He stroked the rest with his hand, humming as he took Tom back and forth, satisfied by the strangled noises above him that he was doing his job. He'd heard from other lovers that jaw fatigue eventually became an issue; Bill never had to worry about that. He could do this or whatever Tom liked best until Tom came.

That reminded him... he pulled his mouth off Tom's cock with reluctance and kissed the tip with his wet swollen lips, nuzzling at it affectionately when that wasn't enough for him. He swirled the stud of his piercing around the head of Tom's cock, simultaneously stroking fast and rough down the shaft and grazing with a hint of his nails, and delighted in Tom's ragged moan, the quick rise of his hips. Bill lapped at the fluid that was still pooling at the tip and he swallowed it down, then backed off and licked at his lips.

"What do you like best, Tom?" Bill asked him, one hand still moving up and down on the slick, velvety skin of Tom's shaft.

"Huh... what?" Tom slurred. His hands grasped for Bill's hair but Bill had lifted his head out of reach.

"To make you come. What do you like to make you come?" Bill clarified, still rubbing, rubbing over the cock in his hands. "Do you want to fuck me? You want me to keep sucking? Do you want to come in my mouth, Tomi?" Unconsciously, the nickname Bill had called at the height of his orgasm slipped from his lips.

Tom groaned and the hard cock in Bill's hands twitched. "Fuuuck, I want you to suck it," he breathed, pushing his hips up. "Suck it, Bill, keep sucking."

Bill allowed himself a tiny smile of utter satisfaction and bent over Tom's cock once more. His, all his, he gloated, and he hovered over it for a moment, taking it in both hands, opening his mouth and exhaling on the head. He looked up at Tom a moment through his lashes and the overhanging spikes of his hair. Lust spiked again in his belly at the sight of Tom watching him, sprawled against Bill's pillows, gnawing on his lip piercing with his eyes all pupil with desire.

It was intimate, the thought crossed Bill's mind. The way that Tom's eyes met his, so needy and unguarded right now, was every bit as close and personal as Bill's mouth on Tom's cock. Thoughtful, Bill licked over the tip of the exposed head of Tom's cock and then hovered there, his mouth open teasingly.

Tom's eyes went half-lidded and hazy and one of his own hands went to his cock. He pushed it into Bill's open mouth and Bill accepted it, closing his own eyes and going down on Tom again, inhaling the musk and underlying fragrance that was rising off Tom's skin, strongest here.

He sucked and jacked Tom into his mouth, pushing away the hand Tom had used to get what he wanted, nearly giggling around his mouthful when Tom's hand immediately went into his hair. Tom held onto Bill's hair as though to anchor him there. It wasn't necessary; Bill had his mouth on his prize and he wasn't going to be letting go until he'd gotten what he wanted. What they both wanted.

"Good, so good," Tom crooned, his fingers massaging through Bill's hair, across his scalp.

Bill hummed, pleased all over, and swallowed Tom into his throat again. Tom moaned and bucked like a wild thing, and now Bill had to use his hands to stop Tom's hips from ramming his entire length down his throat. _I'll do all the work,_ he thought at Tom, as though he could hear him. _The way you took such good care of me._ He switched to shallow breaths through his nose as he took Tom's cock all the way in, pressing him down in deep until his lips kissed the crinkle of hair at the base of Tom's shaft. Then he worked it back until the salty head of Tom's cock rested on his tongue. He repeated that, slow, then again, then faster and kept going, up and down, until he caught sight of Tom's expression in between strokes, his red face clenched like a fist, his eyes closed tight, teeth clamped on his lower lip as though he were in pain. He was close.

He pulled off Tom's cock and kissed the tip. "Come for me," Bill said, greedy for the taste of it. He wanted to see if the taste of Tom's seed was just as good as the pre-come, the subtle appeal of his skin, the rising intoxication of his scent. "C'mon, fuck my mouth, Tomi." He brushed his lips over the head of Tom's cock.

Tom's groan ripped through the bedroom and his hips jolted up. He pushed his cock into Bill's mouth with the rise of his hips and his hands snared hard in Bill's hair.

Bill formed a tunnel with his hands and guided Tom's cock, stroked every bit he could reach, and opened his throat. When Tom's hips slammed up Bill was ready to swallow. He took Tom's cock into his throat and clamped down, squeezing as Tom began to pulse his hips back and forth.

"Bill," Tom began, then his voice broke as he unraveled.

Hot liquid coursed down Bill's throat and he pulled off Tom's cock hastily, bringing the head to rest on his tongue. He moaned as Tom's cock flexed in his mouth, filling Bill up with the thick raw taste of him that kept spurting until Bill began to swallow instead of just savoring it. He was pretty sure he heard Tom moaning, too. Fingers massaged over Bill's scalp as he rolled Tom's come around in his mouth, double-jerking Tom's cock in his hands as he licked and sucked at every trace.

Bill shifted against the sheets, curling his legs beneath him as he chased every last trace of Tom's climax. He was getting hard again; he released one hand from Tom's cock, sending it questing into his own lap to toy with his rising erection.

Bill kept sucking until he'd drained it all out of Tom, swallowed every drop, and then he sucked some more. Tom's hands tugging on his face, on his hair, brought him back to himself at last and he pulled off, releasing his prize with an understated little pop.

Bill blinked up at Tom through heavy lids. "Wasn't done," he objected, voice raspy. He rubbed at his mouth with the back of one hand.

"I was," Tom replied, his wide mouth tilting in a half-smirk. "If you keep doing that I'm gonna get hard again, soon."

Bill smiled slow and lazy and sex-hazed as Tom's thumb traced the swollen line of his lower lip. "That's a problem how?" As much as he loved sucking it, Bill still had a serious itch.

Tom's laugh was low, throaty. "It's not, if you're planning on taking responsibility for making it that way."

Bill purred. "I've been called a lot of things but 'tease' isn't one of them."

Tom's eyes flashed and he hefted himself up from his reclining position with a fluid ripple of stomach muscles. "Not for me, you're not," he replied, low-voiced, cupping the side of Bill's head and kissing him, ducking back before Bill could deepen it. "Not when you're giving me exactly what I never knew I wanted."

Bill peered into Tom's unreadable eyes for a second, puzzled by the comment, then dismissed it as bedroom talk. He'd heard such before, but none so sincere as Tom's simple offhand comment. He sat back on his haunches, settling between Tom's bent knees as the other teen splayed his legs to either side of Bill. Now Bill got more of what _he_ wanted. He loved having a cock in his mouth more than almost anything, and already he thought he might be addicted to the taste of Tom's.

As Tom settled back onto the bed, Bill laid against and partly atop one of Tom's thighs. He approached Tom's softening cock from a new angle, lowering his face until he could press his nose against the sweat-dewed skin at the base of Tom's cock. He nuzzled against the curling brown hairs there and inhaled, letting himself breathe deep.

"You smell so, so good," Bill mumbled, wondering why he couldn't even summon up irritation at himself for sounding dazed. Tom's hands stroked through his hair.

Bill licked and nibbled his way across Tom's hipbones, toying with the rim of Tom's bellybutton with one sharp fingernail. Tom inhaled, then grunted appreciatively as Bill kissed lower, nosing past crisp pubic hair and leaning over Tom's cock to press his open mouth over the femoral artery. Tom groaned and the muscles in his leg jumped, going taut beneath Bill's lips.

"Thought you were going to suck it?" Tom prompted.

Bill looked up and rested his cheek against Tom's thigh. "Complaining already?" he razzed, and turned his head to place a kiss against the tensed muscles. He had to question himself too, though; he was really taking his time, paying attention to features of Tom's body he wouldn't have given a first glance to on someone else.

"No, not really," Tom replied, reaching down to push sweaty hair back away from Bill's face. "Just...I want to fuck you. Really want to fuck you, but I gotta, you know..." His hips twitched, drawing Bill's attention back to the softening cock between his thighs.

Bill's stomach did a quick somersault and a pleased grin tugged at his lips. "Well, most guys don't like having it sucked again so soon after." He'd found that out early. Girls didn't take as long to recover, sometimes he could even keep going through their first to bring them to a second screaming orgasm. Bill preferred dick. He pretty much always had.

Tom's eyes flared with heat and something Bill wasn't quite ready to recognize - something possessive. "I'm not most guys," he retorted.

"That you most certainly are not," Bill agreed demurely, looping one arm over Tom's knee and rubbing his hand over Tom's balls, petting his saliva-moist and still very red cock. The hunger swept through Bill again, the overriding desire, no, need to put it in his mouth. He shifted, curling himself around Tom's groin and resting his weight on one of Tom's hips as he lowered his face again.

Bill used his hand to slip the softening cock in his mouth and he squeezed it, holding it by the base as he began to suck. He couldn't stop little sounds of enjoyment from escaping his mouth, no matter how much cock he drew between his lips. He suckled at the head, greedy, consumed by the taste of it and captivated by the way Tom was already filling and lengthening in his mouth, true to his word.

Tom's hips began to move in slow circles, just barely fucking his mouth. Bill let him, swallowing eagerly as Tom gave him more and more to work with.

He moaned around Tom's cock from sheer enjoyment. Bill pulled mostly off and ran his tongue around the head, gathering the taste as it collected in the crease at the tip. He dragged the stud of his piercing against the slit, making Tom hiss and jerk his hips, then Bill flicked and drew his way down the entire swelling length of Tom's shaft. He loved everything about it; the taste, the smell, the way it fit into his mouth. He sucked the head back into his mouth and let Tom's hands guide him down as he swallowed again.

They continued that way for a good while, Tom's hips moving enough to ease him back and forth in Bill's mouth, Bill sucking cock to his heart's content.

Then Tom's hands were prying at him and Bill mumbled a protest around his mouthful of cock, but Tom was insistent. He grabbed at Bill's hair hard enough to actually sting, which had never happened to Bill before, and Bill finally released Tom's cock again with a glare.

"Get up here," Tom told him, sitting up and scooting up on the bed until his back hit the headboard. He patted his thighs.

Oh. _Oh._ Bill grinned and scrambled up the length of the bed in a trice, more than happy to straddle Tom's lap. Tom's hands slid around his waist, caressing, and Bill leaned in to lick at his mouth, sharing the taste between them. Tom opened his mouth to Bill without hesitation and they kissed as agile, calloused hands stroked up and down his back.

Bill played his hands up over Tom's ribs, pinching his nipples in passing on the way to hooking his hands together behind Tom's neck. He breathed hard into Tom's mouth. He ground up against him, pressing his very hard cock against Tom's washboard stomach to make it crystal clear how ready he was. He still remembered what he'd been promised. They were going to fuck, and everything in the night up until now, amazing as it had been, was all build-up.

"Gonna fuck you," Tom said into his mouth again, then trapped Bill's tongue between his lips and nibbled at Bill's tongue stud before opening up for a deeper kiss. His caresses grew heavier, gripping at Bill's hips. One hand trailed down into the crack of Bill's ass and then fingers rubbed over his hole. "Gonna put it in here."

"Get in me, get it in me," Bill chanted, rocking back and forth in Tom's lap and grinding their cocks together. He fastened his mouth onto Tom's piercing and reached down with one hand to align their cocks together, pulling his mouth from Tom's to glance down and marvel briefly at how perfectly alike they were. Length, thickness, the smooth shiny heads when the foreskin was pulled down taut. He rubbed Tom's cock against his and moaned loudly. "This is going _in_ me."

Tom bit Bill's lip and surged up, pushing their cocks together even harder as he shoved his tongue into Bill's mouth. His fingers retreated from Bill's crease. He leaned back, breaking the kiss and laying two of his fingers against Bill's mouth as he gazed at Bill through heavy-lidded eyes.

Bill grunted and sucked Tom's fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them. He rasped his tongue over the pads of Tom's calloused digits and got them good and wet to urge them on their way.

"Fuck," Tom said with a wince, pulling his fingers free of Bill's mouth.

"That's the idea," Bill said, reaching up to give his hair a saucy flip. He hooked his hand at Tom's nape and ground their crotches back together.

Tom kissed him again as he brought saliva-wetted fingers to Bill's entrance. He circled the pucker once, as though testing the waters, then thrust his tongue into Bill's mouth and sank one finger into him at the same time.

"Oh," Bill moaned prettily around Tom's invasive tongue. He kissed back harder, lapping at Tom's mouth, at his piercing, nudging back and hoping the second finger was soon to follow.

He wasn't disappointed. Tom pulled his index finger back then he was kissing Bill's neck as he pressed two fingers into him, crooking them.

Bill clamped down onto Tom's shoulders with both hands, sinking his teeth into the join of Tom's neck and shoulder harder than he'd intended, harder than he'd bit anyone before. Tom didn't even flinch, he just kept stroking his fingers into Bill, pushing and searching. He hit it, then, and Bill gasped, going rigid in his arms. Tom's fingers dug into him and bumped his prostate again. Bill sobbed into Tom's neck over the exquisite torture, so much pleasure all at once that he writhed. He sucked hard at the skin over Tom's pulse and finally Tom twitched and pulled his fingers free.

"You want it?" Tom asked him, kissing softly at the corner of Bill's mouth. His eyes glimmered at Bill in the darkness and his pupils were wide, so wide.

Bill nodded, his stomach tight with excitement. "Uh-huh," he confirmed, and gave Tom an almost coy smile. "How do you want me?"

Tom's mouth quirked in the beginnings of a smirk. "Have you got some slick--"

Bill was already reaching before Tom finished his sentence. He just about put his fist through the side of his nightstand to get at the lube, reflecting briefly on how that kind of display would usually be a mood-killer, but somehow he was sure Tom wouldn't be put off. He fumbled around the side and retrieved a half-rolled tube. Tom plucked it right out of his hand and gave Bill a little push in the center of his chest.

"Lie on your back," Tom told him. His eyes were shuttered again, and he bit down briefly on his piercing.

Bill eased back onto the sheets, splaying himself out and bringing his legs up, pressing them together for a moment until he was sure he had Tom's attention. Then he spread his legs out to each side and bent his knees, baring all. "Do it," he murmured, stroking a hand down himself from chest to hip. "Come on, I want it."

Tom hovered over him, crawling to Bill and kneeling between his legs. He ducked his head then raised it an instant later, meeting Bill's eyes with something like desperation, and hunger. "I want you so bad," he said, like it was a confession. "Bill, I--"

Bill bit his lip. "In me," he urged. "Hurry up, put it in me."

Tom nodded once, then he uncapped the lube. He was quick about it, slicking his cock without lingering over it, getting it done before Bill could get any more impatient. Then he lined their bodies up and one hand squeezed Bill's starred hip, the other hand guiding the wet tip of him to Bill's hole.

Bill's mouth elongated in a silent scream and his head went back as Tom pushed, breaching his body. Tom shifted on his haunches, grabbing Bill's hips with both hands now and keeping up the steady inward pressure of his cock, opening up Bill and pushing into him.

"You're tight," he grunted. There were beads of sweat already forming on his forehead.

"I'm..." Bill hissed, flexed his thighs, and suddenly moaned as the head of Tom's cock slid deeper and his cock kept moving _in_ him, gods, so deep. "I'm always tight." He wasn't bragging; he was part Nephilim. He didn't think anyone could fuck him often enough to make him loose. As if to demonstrate the point, he clamped down around Tom as the young man kept feeding his cock into Bill's body.

Tom spat out a vicious curse and stilled, closing his eyes. "Bill! Give a guy a chance, will you?" he said, voice strained.

"Umm," Bill hummed, his face tight with anticipation. He let up, though, and let Tom finish sliding into him until they were motionless and pressed completely together, balls to butt.

"Can I...?" Tom panted.

Bill nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes, fuck me, goddamn it," he urged, wrapping his legs around Tom's lower back.

Tom shifted over him again, bringing their bodies into closer alignment and bracing himself on his arms over Bill, not too incidentally driving his cock deeper into Bill's body.

"Ohhh," Bill moaned, clutching at Tom's shoulder's, raking mercilessly at his skin. "Do that again."

Tom pulled out partially and thrust, hovering over Bill, his dreadlocks swaying over his shoulders as he began to fuck into him steadily. Mouth open and eyes nearly closed, he moved back and forth over Bill in a constant, well-paced rhythm.

Bill tensed his legs around Tom and rode out the first of his thrusts, exhilarated and overwhelmed. Normally he preferred sex on his hands and knees; better angle for his prostate, less having to look someone in the eye when he was probably going to ditch them in the morning, but being face to face with Tom was...intense. It was just right. _... you're giving me exactly what I never knew I wanted._

"Me too," he whimpered, ignoring Tom's puzzled look and clenching hard onto Tom's cock.

Tom's breath stuttered onto Bill's face and his steady thrusts paused. "Gods, Bill," he groaned, pushing up into him again, faster now but working harder for it as Bill squeezed around him. Tom braced himself on one hand and reached down to fondle one of Bill's buttocks, opening him up and holding him into place as he withdrew and slammed his cock in and out.

Bill screamed hoarsely, again and again. Tom was hitting it, hitting his spot on every thrust, dragging his cock roughly back and forth over it. "So big," Bill crooned, reaching up and running his hands over Tom's face, his shoulders, tangling in his dreadlocks, every part of Tom he could reach. "So big, so good, keep...keep fucking me!"

Tom shook his head, face contorting in that already-familiar expression that promised climax. "You're so hot, Bill," he panted, and pushed in to the deepest point, leaning forward and stretching Bill wide to deliver a sloppy kiss to his mouth.

It was the kind of thing that would normally make Bill turn his head, wrinkling his nose at the presumption; Bill welcomed this kiss eagerly, thrusting his tongue out to meet the one that sought to claim him. It was Tom's kiss, Tom's handsome face above him, Tom's cock drilling his ass so fucking good. They kissed, but it made Tom's strokes shallow and uncoordinated. Tom finally pushed himself up on both hands above Bill and began to _roll_ his hips, sinking his cock deep and pulling out almost all the way, repeating and repeating that one move and doing Bill _just right_ with each stroke until Bill was shouting loud enough the whole goddamn building had to know what he was doing tonight. Being done by.

"Tomi, Tomi!" Bill screamed, squeezing his legs tight around Tom's lower back, his whole body going into lockdown as he came faster than he would have thought possible. He wound his fingers into Tom's dreadlocks and didn't even have to pull; Tom's mouth was right within reach, rubbing against Bill's lips as Bill gasped and shuddered and came undone between their sweaty bellies.

Tom pumped into him right through his orgasm, his lips brushing against Bill's at the apex of each stroke. Then he groaned and collapsed on top of Bill, nuzzling then biting the pulse at the join of Bill's neck, grabbing his hips in a punishingly tight grip as warmth unspooled deep inside of Bill.

"Tomi," Bill whispered again, slinging his arms around his lover and just holding him there against his body, rocking them together. He could feel the imprint of teeth in his skin and thought, impossibly, that he might bruise from Tom's bite.


	4. Chapter Four

The angle of the moon glinting off Bill's bedroom window let Tom know that it was past midnight, and the nightstand clock confirmed the same. Tom looked down at Bill's utterly peaceful face, his closed eyes still dramatically kohl-lined, lashes thick with mascara, but lips bare now of gloss. Tom had kissed those lips so thoroughly, pushed his cock between them, let Bill kiss down his body. Tom hadn't gone looking for his twin with the intention of fucking his brains out, and yet here they were.

Tom's brother. His twin.

His twin Bill was now curled against Tom, head on his chest, tucked up against his side warm and drowsy and well-fucked, and Tom had no intention of letting go. Bill fit against him just right.

Tom stroked a sweaty piece of hair away from Bill's face, tucking it over his ear, and pressed his lips to Bill's forehead. Not his mouth. God, Bill tasted so fuckin' good. Tom thought he could spend the whole night tonguing every inch of Bill's skin, and nothing more.

Was it possible to be _mated_ to his twin? Tom had never felt a pull this powerful before. Hells, he'd never wanted to be with anyone more than once, before Bill.

He leaned in and nudged Bill's temple with his nose, then kissed that part of him too. Fuck, Tom had it bad. He'd tell Bill everything in the morning – but not now. What if Bill never let Tom have him again? Bill had been raised by humans, after all.

To Nephilim, incest wasn't an issue, but enough time hacking the airwaves, and other ways Tom had delved into human culture, had let him know there was still a mild taboo against sexual intimacy with close family relations. From a Nephilim standpoint this was incomprehensible; there was no danger of inbreeding, especially between males, and morals were a useless human concept. Tom's race lived such long lives they could end up crossing paths with relatives unbeknownst to them, as well.

"Tomi," Bill mumbled, and it was the old nickname from Tom's dreams, the name that only one person ever called him – but never out loud before. 

It tugged at something in Tom's chest, aching behind his breastbone. He ran his fingers up and down Bill's arm, that same sensation twanging harder through him when Bill snuggled closer. Tom had _had_ Bill, he'd claimed him physically, but Bill had him now in a way no one else had, ever could. Tom had never loved anyone before, but he knew this was how it felt, the way he'd known Bill. He'd do anything to keep this.

Tom had been shocked, honestly shocked for perhaps the first time in his life, when he'd introduced himself to his twin at the club and Bill hadn't recognized him then and there. Even if the human mother had never told Bill about House Kaulitz, even if Bill had never known he had a twin, shouldn't recognition have lit up every cell of Bill's body the instant he'd gotten close enough to Tom to get a really good look at him? Tom had known Bill from across campus; but then again, he'd been looking for him, he'd known without a doubt. 

And he'd wanted him anyhow.

Tried to be good, though. Tom had _tried,_ he'd intended to let Bill know about their connection after teasing him a bit simply because of the way Bill was acting toward him, then Bill had gone and touched him, skin to skin.

There went Tom's good intentions.

"Still awake, or falling asleep?" Tom murmured, stroking his hand down Bill's arm and side and reaching down to grip his ass. Tom was wakeful enough for both of them; he didn't want to fall asleep. He hadn't gotten enough of Bill.

"Mmm, awake," Bill murmured, stretching his lean body luxuriantly all along Tom's side, pressing his face into Tom's neck and kissing the pulse point.

"Good," Tom breathed, and dipped his fingers into the crease of Bill's ass.

Bill made a small noise and mashed his lips to Tom's skin, muffling himself and crowding up against Tom.

Tom sucked in a slow breath and pressed his fingers in and down, circling Bill's swollen hole with the pad of his index finger. "You like that?" he whispered, tilting his head to the side and nudging Bill until his twin's lips came into view, then he kissed him.

A fluttering whimper emerged from Bill's throat and he kissed Tom back, licking into the corners of his mouth and opening readily for him.

Tom pressed his finger into Bill and found him still wet.

Bill breathed hard in his ear. "Ahh," he groaned, then whispered back, "I like that, Tomi, I like it so much."

"Mmm," Tom groaned, working his finger into Bill, pressing the second in beside it and searching for Bill's prostate. He couldn't resist the prospect of doing it again, or Bill's body, so tight around his fingers.

Bill kissed his neck again and thrust against Tom's thigh. "Let's do it," he said, groping over Tom's belly and fisting Tom's cock. "C'mon, turn me over, let's do it again."

Tom's fingers retracted from Bill's body before he'd found that spot, and Bill whined against his neck in protest. His brother's little noises shifted to excitement as Tom disengaged his arm from around and beneath Bill and moved to lay on his side, until they were face to face. Bill blinked his gorgeous faintly-slanted eyes at him and Tom was amazed all over again that Bill hadn't seen the resemblance between Tom's face and his own - sure, Bill wore a lot of makeup, but everything from eyebrows to the shape of his nose to the sensual lines of his mouth matched with Tom's exactly. Bill had been a little drunk and probably more than a little horny, sure. But the alcohol had long since burned off and it wasn't dark in Bill's apartment, not for them. Tom could see the reflective glint of Bill's night-sensitive pupils every now and then, same as his.

Tom banished those thoughts for now; tonight had become all about pleasuring Bill for as long as he could. As long as his twin would let him, which might be right up until he realized the truth. Tom stretched just that infinitesimal distance necessary to close his lips over Bill's.

Bill plastered himself up against Tom and melted into the kiss. His mouth opened eagerly to Tom's tongue. Tom stroked an appreciative hand down his brother's side, lingering at the subtly raised texture of the star tattoo on Bill's right hip.

"You want to, again?" Tom spoke against his twin's moist lips.

Bill crowded against him and thrust his cock along Tom's stomach. He was hard again, and he reached a hand between them to press and hold their hard cocks together. "Unnh... uh-huh," he grunted, nodding until his hair fanned against Tom's cheek and neck. "Do me, Tomi, you do me so good."

Tom was sure he was flushing all along his body now with the kind of pride he'd never felt before, not even on the rare occasion when Jorg had praised him. It was a good thing color was less distinguishable in the dark, though Bill could probably detect Tom's spike in temperature. He would surely attribute it to arousal.

"You want to do it on our sides, back to front?" Tom murmured, kissing the corner of Bill's mouth, the slant of his cheekbone, the edge of his jaw.

Bill nodded, ducking his head to nuzzle at Tom's throat. "Like spoons." He began to lick and nip the skin there, and Tom had to grab at Bill's shoulders before he got too involved in what he was doing. If Bill kept marking him like that, Tom was going to lose it and do something inhumanly feral.

Tom's eyes went wide. Fuck. The marking, the way Tom couldn't get enough of the touch of Bill's skin, the way Bill's scent was like a goddamn anvil between his eyes... _You just know,_ the lore went. _When it happens, you know._ But it couldn't be possible; Bill was his brother, his _twin._

"What?" Bill asked, pushing playfully at Tom's shoulder. He nosed the piercing at Tom's lip and sucked it into his mouth.

Tom let himself get swept away in the intensity of Bill's kiss. Morning; he'd worry about dealing with everything else in the morning. Then he'd tell Bill the whole truth and see where they stood. Right now... Bill's mouth was hot and pliant against him, and all Tom wanted to do was roll their bodies together until they came again.

"What was it, what was that look?" Bill persisted, ducking his head so that Tom's kiss landed on his ear.

Tom shook his head, sending a shower of dreadlocks over his face and Bill's. He grasped Bill's hip and eased their groins together, making Bill gasp and bump his chin against Tom's on his way to kissing Tom's mouth again. "Wanna get in you so bad." It was the truth; just not all of it.

Bill's face lit up. "And I want you _in_ me, so turn me over," he ordered, moving his hand between them and jerking it over their cocks where they were pressed together.

"Ahh..." Tom exhaled, thumbing at the skin of Bill's tattoo and burying his face in his brother's neck. "What's your rush? We've got all night, don't we?" His mouth curved against Bill's sweat-damp skin as Bill whined low in his throat and humped against him.

"My rush is I like your dick in my ass," Bill replied, muffled against Tom's dreadlocks. "And it's not in there right now." He wiggled suggestively.

Tom groaned, licking at Bill's neck. He wasn't quite able to stop himself even though he knew licking would turn into nibbling, which it did, then open-mouthed sucking. It was a short stretch from that to biting over Bill's pulse fit to mark him the way he had on the other side of Bill's neck, when he'd come so hard earlier inside his twin's body.

"And it could be..." Bill said in a sing-song voice. He abandoned his grip on their cocks and grabbed Tom's ass instead, palming one cheek and grinding them closer, finding that last micron of space between their bodies and getting rid of it. "You could have your dick in me _right now._ "

Tom groaned and pried his mouth away from Bill's neck. He nosed it, briefly, admiring how he'd brought the sweet hot scent of Bill's blood so near the surface, then he decided it wasn't a bad thing to let Bill win when they would both get something that they wanted out of it. "Okay, turn over."

Bill loosed an undignified squeak of excitement and surged forward, kissing Tom hard on the mouth. He flipped over, first onto his back then onto his side, shifting so that he was facing away from Tom and their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces.

Tom thrust his cock against Bill's crease as soon as their bodies fit together so sweetly; he couldn't help himself. He wanted to get in there so badly, it overwhelmed all his natural instincts toward caution or holding back, or hell, even making sure Bill was satisfied. The noises Bill was currently making were a good indicator that Bill was every bit as desperate to have Tom's cock in him as Tom was to get it there.

He squeezed Bill's hips and held himself still. He wanted to make this good, so good for both of them. Just in case...

"Do it, do it, put it in me," Bill chanted, as though sensing Tom's brief hesitation over whether to grab Bill and push home or rile him up some more.

Tom shuddered and bent his head over Bill's neck, sending dreadlocks cascading over both their faces. He squeezed Bill's hip, once, then set his mouth against the hot skin of Bill's neck as he groped between them for his erection. Bill began to shift against him restlessly. Tom kissed Bill's neck, traced it with his tongue, bit down a little. Tom grabbed his cock and rubbed it against Bill's ass for a moment, panting through his nose.

"Tomi," Bill moaned, and that was all it took.

Tom dragged the head of his cock up through Bill's cleft and fitted it there, pressing against Bill's still-slick hole. He held himself motionless until he heard Bill's breath catch in his throat. Then he started pushing, parting Bill around his cock, and all the air left his lungs in an enormous groan. He let go of his dick to seize Bill's hip again.

Bill was making the most delicious noises in the back of his throat. He grabbed Tom's hand on his hip, hard, twining their fingers together. "So good so good so good, oh, Frigg," he babbled.

Tom slid into his brother for the second time that night. He had both Bill's hips in his hands now and he used the leverage to work his cock in all the way. They fit.

This wasn't fucking, the thought thrilled over Tom as he pushed for a second time into the tight welcome clench of Bill's body. They rocked together, inhaling simultaneously. This was making love; sweet hot fire coursing back and forth between them where they were connected, Tom's lips on Bill's nape, Bill's hand grasping Tom's fingers and pressing them to his hip, Tom's cock in Bill's ass, their legs tangled.

"Yes," Bill hissed, pushing back against him and gripping down hard on Tom's hand. He tipped his head to the side, seeking a kiss.

Tom was only too happy to oblige.

His hips snapped forward, burying his cock into his twin over and over as he clutched at Bill's hips to hold him in place. He nuzzled past dyed-black hair and licked his way into Bill's mouth. He buried his tongue there, nestling it against its twin, groaning when Bill swirled his tongue stud against him and ran it along the roof of Tom's mouth. They kissed deeply as Tom rutted into Bill.

They did it that way for a long time, rocking together in an easy constant pulse. Every time either of them sped up a little Bill would begin to breathe faster, anticipatory little noises hitching in his throat, or Tom would grunt and dip his nose into Bill's neck, then they would begin to kiss hotly again and get into that, and their strokes would slow, ease down. They moved together to a synchronized beat. It could have been hours. It could have been days if not for the darkness still wrapped around them.

When Bill began to clench rhythmically around him, though, Tom couldn't help himself anymore. He disentangled Bill's clinging fingers and began to stroke him, taking hold of Bill's wet hard cock and pushing the foreskin back, really working him as he thrust into him harder.

Their bodies slapped damply together as they moved faster and faster, tumbling one after the other into almost simultaneous orgasm. Bill's body tightened around him so hard Tom's field of vision flared white, then his twin was crying out and spilling come over his fingers.

"So good," Bill gasped, hips moving frantically, pulling himself off Tom's cock then sinking himself back onto it. "Come, come with me, come in me."

And Tom did.

"So good," Bill crooned again, grasping at Tom's hand, pressing it against his face, kissing his fingers. "Tomi, so good."

Tom could only agree and hope that Bill wouldn't hate him in the morning.

***

Bill woke with a smile on his lips, a song in his heart, and a deep ache in his nethers that surprised and delighted him. He'd gotten fucked but good. He opened his eyes and admired the sleeping face of the young man beside him. Tom's arm was slung over Bill's waist in a possessive gesture; it was the first surprise, as Bill was usually an active sleeper and rolled away from any would-be cuddlers. The second surprise was that Bill liked the arm there.

He hummed under his breath and reached for a stray piece of shaggy dreadlocked hair that dangled over Tom's face, taking it between his fingers and playing with it. Wouldn't Andreas be surprised when he came by to drive Bill to campus? Bill had a man here long after he was accustomed to waking and chasing them out in the morning. Of course, he'd already slept in late because of the phenomenal fuck. But now that he was awake, he didn't have any desire to shove Tom off him and out of his space.

Amazing.

Tom's lips twitched and Bill knew that he was awake even before the other teen's mouth shaped the beginning of a smile.

"Morning," Bill sang, excessively pleased with himself. He wondered how long he should wait before dropping the news on Tom that he'd decided to keep him.

"Already?" Tom said, sounding disgruntled. He opened his eyes and looked right into Bill's eyes.

Bill bit down on his lip, frowning. That deja-vu was flooding over him again, in a wave so vivid now it was like being hit by vertigo. Tom was beyond familiar, he was...

"I dreamed about you," Bill murmured, sleepy and sated. "I dreamed _you,_ for years and years." He was still toying with one of Tom's long dreadlocks.

"I know," Tom murmured back. His deep brown eyes locked on Bill's in that intense stare of his, as though he were willing him to say something, do something.

Bill had the odd conviction that Tom was looking right into him, into his thoughts, his _soul._ He bit his lip again and shivered even with Tom's warmth radiating across his skin.

In the morning light, Bill could see even more clearly – or perhaps he was simply paying better attention. Tom's solid brown eyes were centered with a vivid crimson pupil – just like Bill's.

Bill pushed himself up on his elbow in one swift motion that would have been a blur to a normal person and Tom's hand shot out, grabbing Bill's wrist, equally if not more swift. "Nephilim," Bill breathed. Of course. He hadn't really let himself think it before, but all the pieces had been there. They fit.

And Tom's scent, so dark and different and fucking...fucking intoxicating... Bill's nostrils flared. God, he could roll himself in Tom's scent and come out the other side blissed out from only that.

"Yes," Tom said evenly. "I am Nephilim. Half-Nephilim, actually. Just like you, Bill."

Bill's mouth fell open. There was a short list of people that would be privy to that information; his parents, Andreas, his band-members, and a handful of people at the Orion Corporation and the Wall and City Defense Corps. And unless Bill was reading things wrong, Tom wasn't either of the latter two. "How did you..." He snapped his mouth shut, going very still.

Tom had raised his eyebrow in a quirk of expression beyond familiar. He'd done it as Bill's own brow rose.

Just like Bill.

Bill's stomach executed a slow roiling tumble.

"I came looking for my brother," Tom said, holding Bill's gaze. "And I found you."

Bill's mouth dropped open again. "No fucking way." He stared, though, looking at Tom, _really_ letting himself look at the good face, the handsome face, that he'd so admired last night in the heady rush of the club while he'd thought Tom was stalking him. Tom's face was Bill's mirror, if Bill were to get up and scrub off the remains of his eye makeup. "How did I...not see this?" He exploded up off the bed, tearing the sheet from his body and tossing it behind him, and paced for the bathroom.

"Bill!" Tom called out behind him as Bill stormed into the bathroom.

"I'm ignoring you!" Bill yelled childishly. "You lied to me!"

"Come on, Bill, you know that's not true. You would have known. Think about it. I never lied."

Bill did think about it as he scrubbed his face with makeup remover pads and rinsed with cold water. He exfoliated while considering the fact that, yes, he always knew when someone lied to him. Whether it was by the off scent, spike in pulse, or the scream of body language, he knew. He rinsed his face again, patted it dry, and wiped down with toner. His mind had kind of shut down, for the moment, and going through the everyday motions of his routine gave him the moment he needed to reboot.

"Okay," he muttered sulkily, knowing Tom would hear him with his Nephilim-keen hearing. "You never did lie, but you sure didn't fucking volunteer the truth before you _nailed_ me." Bill rubbed moisturizer onto his face then glanced up and to the side as his peripheral vision caught movement.

Tom loomed naked in the doorway to Bill's bathroom, tall and tanned and epitomizing masculine beauty.

Bill straightened up from the sink and turned to face him. But for the minor details of skin tone and hair – and Bill had already noted last night that his own natural root color matched Tom's - Bill was confronting a mirror made flesh. Tom stood there and simply looked at him, expressionless, and Bill returned glance for glance. Bill shook his head and returned to his actual mirror, which needlessly confirmed what he'd already figured out.

What he'd been _told._

"Twins," he verbalized, and Tom stepped into the bathroom to stand with him side by side, both of them looking in the wide reflective surface that stretched along the entire length of the bathroom counter. Tom's loose dreadlocks fell shaggy around his face and shoulders, and his body was more toned and muscular. His lip was pierced and there was a mole on his right cheek, where Bill had one high on his chin below his right lip. Those were the only differences.

Bill couldn't stand it anymore. He stomped out of the bathroom, denting a tile in passing, careful not to touch any part of Tom.

"You asshole!" Bill raged, as he caught sight of the bed and his nostrils flared reflexively. It smelled of sex, their sex; it was saturated with their mingled scent. He inhaled again and realized how similar their scents were; there was only the thinnest margin of difference yet Bill could still tell. He closed his eyes and his mouth worked for an instant. " _Why_ did you--"

"I truly thought you'd recognize me," Tom said from behind him. From the placement of breath and heartbeat Bill could tell that Tom had followed him from the bathroom, was standing right behind him. "I was shocked when you didn't. I, I was going to say something, was about to, but then...you touched me."

Bill opened his eyes. He remembered that instant very clearly. That was pretty much when he'd shifted from playing around with some guy who'd been following him to the certainty that he was going to have Tom. Get fucked by Tom.

"But I... but you... we--" Bill turned in a wide, wobbling spin and gestured feverishly toward the rumpled bed. Yes, it smelled like their sex, and to Bill it still smelled _good._ He could wrap himself in those sheets and breathe in the scent and come with a few quick jerks from only that much.

Tom quirked a brow as though to say, come on. "Do you care?"

Bill struggled to get a grip on himself. Angry, check. He was still pissed at the way Tom had sprung this on him, especially the waiting-till-morning-after bit. Shocked, check. He'd been empty and lonely all his life; there had been a gaping void in his chest, in his soul. He'd never thought that meant he had a _twin._ Yet here the proof was, face to face. And then there was the unwitting incest he'd engaged in the night before. Brother-fucking. With his _twin._ Do you care, Tom was asking him. Bill pulled in a slow, considering breath and looked Tom in the eye.

"Yes," he said decisively.

Tom's expression shifted, he looked flinty. Dangerous, even.

"I'd care if we...stopped," Bill admitted, breaking with the last of his humanity with an easy shrug. He looked hungrily at Tom's lean, toned body. Still naked. His, he was already exulting, all _his._ Tom had already known and he'd claimed him that way anyhow, so Tom wanted this as much as Bill.

Tom relaxed. "Good," he said. "Because I don't think I could stop."

Bill's mouth twitched. "Sure you could," he said. "Until you touched me again."

Tom's brow crooked up, then he was offering Bill that lopsided, wry smirk of his and closing the distance between them. 

He stood in front of Bill, chest to chest, their bodies so near that the air practically crackled with charge between them. "You think so?" he said, low-voiced.

Throat dry, Bill nodded dumbly. Touch me, he'd all but screamed at Tom with that challenge. _Touch me again and find out._ Bill didn't move, he didn't even breathe as Tom shifted even closer.

Tom reached out and circled Bill's wrist with his supple, calloused fingers. The touch of his skin arced like a shock immediately through Bill, shooting down his arm and connecting with his groin. It had been deliberate, Bill knew, mimicking the first physical contact that Bill had made with Tom the night before. 

"Hi," Tom husked. "I'm your twin brother, Tom Kaulitz."

Bill's eyes widened. He couldn't contain the smile that broke over his face. "I'm Bill," he replied, biting down on his lip to stifle a chuckle. Tom wanted a do-over? He might cooperate. "Bill Trumper."

"Not anymore," Tom whispered, stepping even closer until the scant hairs on Bill's body prickled at his nearness. A centimeter or less and they'd touch all along the length of one another. Tom let go of his wrist.

"Bill Kaulitz," Bill corrected himself, and angled his face, bridging that last gap between them and shifting his lips into alignment with Tom's.

His twin's mouth was on him, soft and heavy at the same time. Bill's brother, his twin Tom, was kissing him - kissing back, actually, continuing what Bill had started. If it was supposed to feel wrong, Bill didn't even care. Tom's lips rubbed against his, the piercing digging in ever so slightly, and Bill opened his mouth to his twin with a little moan. Tom's tongue sank into his mouth immediately, and for Bill, all of a sudden being joined at the mouth wasn't enough. He slid his arms around Tom's naked waist and fitted his hands on the sloping plane of his brother's lower back.

Tom brought his arms up around Bill's shoulders, pulling their bodies together to form one long unbroken line as he kept kissing Bill with passion and serious tongue. He rested one hand at Bill's nape, thumbing along the bones of his spine where they trailed up into his hair.

They broke the kiss panting. Soft, stirred-up breaths washed against Bill's cheek and he returned them against the corner of Tom's mouth, both of them panting not from the need for air, but arousal. Bill rested his forehead against Tom's and delight curled in his belly to see a sly, secretive smile on Tom's lips that matched his own.

"Still mad at me?" Tom asked.

Bill sniffed, pretending hauteur. "Maybe," he fibbed. He raised his brows. "There _is_ someone I'm really, really pissed at, though." He knew Tom would smell the lie in the first part, sense the utter truth of the second.

Tom's fingers teased in small circles at Bill's nape. "Who?" he inquired curiously.

"Our parents."

Tom's face darkened immediately. "My father wouldn't even tell me," he told Bill. "I found out from one of his minions. I've been looking for you since I was sixteen."

Bill had snorted at the word "minions," then he was diverted by the pleasant secondary reaction from where his diaphragm and belly were pressed against Tom's. He belatedly caught the last part of Tom's declaration and lifted his head. "You've been looking for me for so long?" he exclaimed, touched, and rubbed his hands over Tom's lower back.

Tom's eyes half-closed with pleasure, like a lazy feline being petted. "Even longer, really," he murmured, leaning forward to kiss at Bill's parted lips. They traded gentle open-mouthed kisses for a bit, just stroking each other, touching. "It wasn't until I was sixteen that I really had the resources to get out and find you. Before Jost confessed I had a twin, I almost thought I'd been yearning for my mate." He nuzzled at Bill's cheek.

"Who says you weren't?" Bill countered.

Tom's lips curved against Bill's cheek. "I was wondering what you'd think about that," he murmured. He shifted against Bill, and now they could both feel excitement stirring against one another's bellies.

Bill exclaimed softly, nudging his hips against Tom and dropping his head to Tom's shoulder. He was struggling to concentrate now, with so much of Tom's skin spread against him and the enticing musky scent of Tom's arousal tingling in his nose. "About... us being mates?" he gasped, pressing his lips to the join of Tom's neck then admiring the brilliant purple suck-mark he'd made the night before. That answered Bill's questions about whether they could affect each other that way. He was sure he had a few of his own. He was taken off guard a bit by how much he liked the prospect.

"Uh-huh," Tom answered. His hands traveled fast from Bill's shoulders on down to grab his ass. "I didn't think it could be possible, but--"

"But you felt it too," Bill finished for his twin. "You just – _we_ just know." He knew that much of Nephilim lore.

Tom's dark brown eyes glinted at him, doubly intense from such a short distance. How had Bill ever missed it? Then Tom was kissing him, hard, nibbling his mouth open and licking inside, and everything faded for Bill but the two of them together.

"Ahh," Bill gasped against his twin's mouth, nails digging into Tom's lower back as he clutched at him, though there was no space between their bodies to pull him closer. Tom pressed his tongue in against Bill's, slow and thorough, and Bill rubbed his hands frantically up and down Tom's back, biting down on Tom's tongue before taking a different tack. He pressed his tongue stud against Tom's upper lip, then wedged it against the bottom lip with the lower portion of the barbell and wiggled it suggestively.

Tom whimpered and his cock twitched against Bill's groin.

Bill broke their kiss and leaned in to lick at Tom's earlobe, getting distracted along the way and nuzzling up his jaw. "You taste so good... I want to suck it again," he breathed.

Tom's fingers flexed on his ass and he buried his face in Bill's neck. "You smell so fucking good, Bill, better than anything. Wanna do everything to you," he moaned.

Bill nodded and tried to smother his excited little noises; it was too much, he wanted Tom so bad. If Tom were to tumble him right now on the floor it wouldn't be soon enough. He chuckled and ducked against Tom's neck, overwhelmed but so happy, euphoria flooding through every cell of his body.

Tom's lips curved against the skin of Bill's neck. "What's funny?"

"When I woke up," Bill recalled, hugging Tom to him again and tracing meaningless patterns over his back with the tips of his nails. "I was wondering how long to wait until I told you I was planning on keeping you."

"Mm." Tom considered this. "Then I told you I was already yours."

Bill nodded again. "Let's go back to bed," he suggested, his voice dropping to a husky lower register. "Hells, you could turn me over the edge of it and I'd be happy – it's high enough."

"There's an idea," Tom said, his own deeper, slightly more nasal voice smoky all of a sudden. He pulled back from Bill's neck until their eyes met again. Tom was looking at him, just looking at him, dark eyes serious until he bit at the lower corner of his lip as an almost shy grin tugged his mouth to the side.

A smile broke out over Bill's face in response; he simply couldn't help himself. "Tomi," he said. It was the name from his dreams, the name he'd screamed out during climax last night as a part of him recognized and fit together all the clues that had been there all along. This was his Tomi, no one else's. "What's that look?"

"I—" Tom began, leaning in to fan hot breath over Bill's cheek with lips parted and eyes dilating, then he jerked to a stop as a series of staccato knocks pounded over Bill's front door.

Bill blinked, returning Tom's questioning look with utter incomprehension. Memory returned to him and he drew himself up onto his toes with a sharp inhalation, scratching along Tom's skin as he tried to disentangle himself. "Ohh, I forgot about Andreas!" he exclaimed, glancing over his shoulder at the clock on his nightstand.

"What?" Tom asked, disgruntled.

"My friend Andreas, one of the guys who was in my booth at the club last night," Bill replied, patting at his twin's chest. "He comes to pick me up for school. Let me go. Damn, but it's late!"

Tom's grip loosened enough for Bill to pry himself free, but he was scowling.

Bill ignored that for now and cast about in the wreck of his room for a shred of clothing to wear. He was still hard and the echo of Tom's hands was still on his body, the imprint of his brother's fingers curving across his buttocks, but the immediacy of someone at the door had pulled him from his state of thrall for now. It wasn't that the craving was any less. Fuck, he still wanted Tom – so bad – but it was Andreas knocking at the door and they'd been friends forever.

He snatched up his skimpy red boyshorts from the night before and stepped into them, hopping over discarded clothes and tweaking a handful of Tom's dreadlocks on his way over to the door. Tom reached for him but Bill merely snickered and side-stepped him, making Tom curse.

Bill yanked the door open in the midst of Andreas's second flurry of knocking. "Yes, yes, I'm here," he said, biting back a grin when Andreas's jaw dropped.

"Uh... running a little late today, Bill?" Andreas questioned, averting his eyes, cheeks pinking. "I tried to call you this morning a couple of times already. The Gs and I were kind of worried when you ducked out of the club early with that guy."

"Oh," Bill said. He tried to remember where he'd put his mobile, then remembered it was in the handbag he'd chucked at his side table last night while he was wrapped up in Tom and the need to get naked. Maybe his mobile had been that shattering noise, though he was sure there had been a vase too at some point. An involuntary smile tugged at his lips and he glanced over his shoulder, but he couldn't see into the bedroom from his angle. "Yeah, I had a, well, a _mind-blowing_ night last night. In fact, I kind of..." Though the biggest shocker had been saved over for the morning.

"Bill, is that a hickey?" Andreas said, his voice going kind of high and breathy.

"What?" Bill looked down, peering at his shoulders, his upper chest, but he couldn't crane his head to an angle that would let him see any marks. "Oh, probably." He tried to meet Andreas's eyes again, grinning, but his friend was studying his shoes or the floor or something.

"You've never--" Andreas began, and looked up. His eyes went comically wide and whatever he'd been about to say died of strangulation in his throat.

Prickling radiant warmth appeared all along the length of Bill as Tom stepped into the doorway beside him, slinging a heavy arm over his shoulders and settling beside him hip to hip. The skin contact was cut by half because Tom had found his pants and put them on, and, curiously, also his sweatband and cap.

"Hi," Tom said directly to Andreas.

As his friend's eyes bulged Bill wondered what his friend was thinking, what he made of the sight before him. Was Andreas thinking that Tom's toned chest and flat abs were hot, and every bit as tight and distracting as Bill had found them? The thought made Bill wrinkle his nose and send his hand to grip at the back of Tom's belt and the waist of his jeans. Or could Andreas only focus on the similarity between Bill's make-up free face and the unfamiliar guy beside him?

Bill turned his head, Tom's dreadlocks tickling at his ear. "Tomi, you could have waited," he murmured, and Tom's head inclined in his direction, stopping before the bill of his cap would press against Bill's forehead. Tom's eyes glinted at him, unapologetic, the look in them reminding Bill that Tom hadn't been raised human.

"Um, wow," Andreas was saying. "I, I don't think...I mean, your hook-ups are usually gone by the time I get here so I, uh... what's going on, Bill?" He grimaced as he said it, and swallowed as he shifted uncomfortably in the hallway. He wasn't quite glaring at Tom.

Bill transferred his attention back to Andreas with an effort. "Andreas, I'd like you to meet Tom. Tom, this is my friend Andreas, we've been friends since, what, middle school?"

"Yeah," Andreas confirmed, his brow furrowing as he looked from Bill to Tom and back again. "So, you guys are..."

"Andreas, this is my Tomi," Bill concluded, nudging his hip against Tom's.

"Your..." Andreas trailed off, looking back and forth between them again. He blinked, swallowed hard. "You could be twins, this is eerie. I mean, your faces, you look so much alike."

Bill glanced sidelong, arching his brow, and Tom met his eyes and gave him a tiny shrug. Clearly it didn't matter to him whether Bill told Andreas the truth or not. For Bill, it was obvious; he and Andreas had been friends for years, Andreas was the one person who knew everything about him.

"We are," Bill replied, an irrepressible grin taking hold of him again. He could bounce up and down on the balls of his feet, he could clutch everyone he saw into a stranglehold hug, and he knew for sure he was going to go everywhere with a stupid grin that topped his best ever Bill-got-laid look. Tom was everything, indeed. "Tom found me last night, he's been looking for me. We've been separated since we were babies."

Andreas's eyes widened and his mouth parted in silent shock.

Tom leaned against Bill, angling in to press a kiss against his bare shoulder, and they both twitched. Shit, was Bill still hard, standing here half in the hallway talking to his friend? If he hadn't been, he was going to get there soon.

Andreas flinched. "But, the two of you... I mean, uh... Bill. You sure look like you got laid last night," he said bluntly. Andreas knew him well enough to speak his mind.

"I did," Bill said brightly. Best to get that out in the open right away, seeing as it would be a recurring state of affairs. Poor Andi, that was probably part of the shock – he'd never seen Bill with a steady lover. Bill had his hook-ups for physical release and Andreas had fulfilled whatever emotional needs Bill had had. Everything would be different from now on.

Tom's hip butted Bill's again and Bill turned his head to nuzzle happily against his twin's bare shoulder, reaching up to take hold of the hand that was squeezing possessively on his own shoulder.

"We had sex last night," Bill said to make it absolutely clear, no room for misunderstanding. He bit his lip at the queasy horror that washed over Andreas's face. He really hoped his friend would be able to get over any qualms he had regarding Bill's relationship with his newfound brother.

"Three times," Tom added, as though the amount of sex were important somehow. He was probably proud of himself. "And we were about to again when you interrupted." He was _definitely_ glaring.

Andreas raised both hands, either defensively or to stop the barrage of unsolicited information. His fair skin had flushed a brilliant crimson. "Um. I. Um. Well, I came by to pick up Bill for class, so I... uh... Maybe I should go. I'm gonna--" He cut himself off, nodding to himself, and turned to go. "Interrupting, so..."

"Wait, Andi!" Bill exclaimed. Oh, he was terrible at this, he always had been. He could read peoples' reactions as though they were fine print, but how to respond to them was another matter. Bill had always been hard-wired completely different from the people around him; what was a big deal to his peers and family was nothing to him, and what he found infuriating or unforgivable was often something they'd dismiss as trivial. Now Bill had broken his biggest news ever to his best friend and he'd gone about it all wrong.

Andreas half-turned, positioned so he could look at Bill from the corner of one eye but not necessarily see Tom as well. Anxiety radiated off him like steam, and there was a tenseness Bill had never seen in his friend before, as well as discomfort.

"I did that wrong," Bill said with a frown. "But I tell you everything, Andi, it's not like I was going to keep this from you."

Andreas sighed and ran a hand through his bleached blond hair, breaking eye contact and looking across the hall. "Bill? I'll pretend it was a joke, I'll pretend I never saw anything if you want me to, just... uh. Want me to wait in the car?"

Bill frowned harder. They were going to have to have a serious talk later. "Right, I forgot about class..." His chin dipped down toward his chest as he contemplated the awfulness of tearing himself away from Tom even for a few hours.

Tom turned his head, angling in again; this time to kiss at Bill's temple. "Skip your class," he suggested, low but perfectly audible.

Andreas's back stiffened.

Bill's eyes rolled back into his head a little as he became acutely aware of Tom's free hand grasping on his hip now, rubbing suggestively over his star tattoo. "Sorry, Andi, I've gotta have sex now, I'll call you later, okay?" Without waiting for any sort of response he grabbed the edge of the door and hauled it shut.

Goodbye, perfect attendance record, Bill thought with giddy abandon. He squeaked as Tom crowded him against the closed door, tipping his head to kiss Bill's mouth and lower, licking at the hollow of his throat.

"Get this _off,_ " Bill demanded, tugging at the brim of Tom's cap. Why he'd put that on and not a shirt was a mystery to Bill; maybe he'd ask later. After.

Tom grunted and lifted his head off Bill long enough to pull his cap free of his dreadlocks, taking the sweatband with it, then brought himself nose to nose with Bill.

"What was that about?" Tom murmured, his eyes flicking past Bill as though to indicate the hallway.

"Just Andreas," Bill said breathlessly, gripping the back of Tom's jeans with both hands, sliding his hands into the pockets. Their groins weren't pressing together – yet – but Tom's hands on his shoulders were enough. Any touch was enough.

Tom leaned into him until their chests came into contact, and he dropped his head against Bill's neck, breathing his scent in, kissing over his pulse. "He wants you."

"Everyone wants me," Bill replied matter-of-factly. He'd never crossed that line with Andreas, though, and he was sure that was how they'd stayed friends for so long. Bill's lips curled in a secret smile. "You're the only one who gets to have me now, though, right?"

Tom growled a wordless affirmative and tangled a leg around Bill's. "Gonna have you right here," he spoke against Bill's throat. "The bed's too fuckin' far." He began to kiss down from Bill's collarbone.

"No, stop," Bill protested, pushing Tom away before he could latch his teeth onto a nipple. "You can't, we'll fuck the door into matchsticks. Seriously, Tom. Tom!" He pounded at his brother's unyielding shoulders.

"Fine," Tom groaned, flicking his skilled tongue over one of Bill's nipples, then grabbing his ass through his shorts.

Bill moaned, plunging his hands into Tom's loose dreadlocks. "And there's someone else you should meet. Like, right away."

"Okay, sure," Tom said against Bill's breastbone. "After I have you again, though."

That was too good an offer to pass up, so all Bill could do was nod as he grinned through sheer delight. Then he squawked as his twin hefted him up and tossed him over his shoulder with zero effort.

"Barbarian!" Bill screamed. "Brute! You horrible, despoiling Nephilim! You'd better be headed for the bed."

"The couch is closer," Tom pointed out helpfully.

"Oh. Oh, yeah. Put me on the couch, Tomi."


	5. Chapter Five

Tom was having a pretty damned good day, all things considered. So things hadn't gone the way he'd expected in his first encounter with his twin brother. Tom could live with that, especially when the outcome was Bill in his arms, in his bed. It had been a near disaster, but the greater share of Bill's anger had seemed to be at the fact that Tom had kept their kinship from him until after they'd slept together, when it hadn't been Tom's intention.

Any coherent thought Tom might entertain had been dissolved to nothingness at the touch of Bill's skin against his.

Bill had seemed swayed by that argument, but there had been another tense moment when Tom had been truly unsure whether Bill would tell him no, he couldn't have him again. Tom might have gone a little crazy in that split second; he couldn't recall it with absolute clarity. He remembered thinking something about changing Bill's mind no matter what; maybe frontal assault by mouth, if nothing else. Then Bill had admitted exactly what Tom had wanted to hear.

Now Tom's sex drive was pleasurably sated, and he'd called the car he had hired the night before. After they'd broken Bill's couch in half, Bill had insisted on a shower for both of them. He solicited Tom's help to put some kind of lotion on his back after the shower, cloying unscented stuff, and Tom had tried to bend him over the bathroom counter, but Bill had put up unexpected resistance.

"No, come on, we've just showered and I want you to meet someone," Bill had insisted. "Someone important; Tomi, please?"

And Tom had discovered that he was unable to resist his twin's pleas, even when it wasn't for sex.

As they climbed into the car Bill gave the driver the address. Tom scooted over to Bill's side of the car, and they were on their way. It was an address Tom recognized but hadn't gotten around to visiting – he'd uncovered most of the information he'd needed to find Bill after he had arrived in New York, and had opted to approach his brother directly. He'd never imagined that Bill, as well, hadn't been told he had a twin brother.

Then again, he'd never imagined that Bill, who had been raised his whole life in the human world, would turn out to be so thoroughly Nephilim – right up to doing as he pleased, regardless of human morals. He'd expected Bill to fight with him, struggle against it and deny him, maybe even throw Tom out. Tom considered pinching himself, and decided his actions were better spent insinuating himself closer to Bill.

"Are you sure you want to do this here?" Bill asked him, as Tom placed a hand on Bill's knee and aligned them side to side from ankle to hip. Clothes helped, a little. He could still smell his twin's scent rising off his skin, tantalizing, and it drew on the newly-born need that was now a constant smolder at his core.

"What?" Tom inquired, lifting a brow as he intercepted an amused glance from Bill from the corner of his eye.

Bill had put his makeup back on, eyeliner not quite as aggressive and dark as what he'd worn in the club the night before. This morning his eye shadow harmonized subtly with the olive hoodie he'd worn over a tight black t-shirt. He'd put on enough mascara to bring out the incredible length of his lashes. His hair wasn't teased up the way it had been the night before; he had let it dry soft around his face and it had a slight wave to it. He was wearing lip gloss, not much color but with a faint shimmer. 

Tom wanted to lean over and find out how it tasted.

Bill arched his own brow in response, then he was grinning, so sweet and purely glad in expression that Tom couldn't help but smile back. "I'm so happy you found me," Bill said, and bit his lip, lowering his eyes to give Tom an almost coy glance.

"I'm happy too," Tom replied, and it was true. He knew unequivocally that he'd never been so happy in his life, he didn't have to think about it. Ah, he recalled something important now, something that had been interrupted by Andreas's knock earlier in the day. He spared a second to consider a brief fantasy over what he'd do to the boy if he wasn't Bill's friend, and therefore didn't have that protection, then dismissed his idle thought for the most important thing. He squeezed Bill's knee and leaned closer over Bill's shoulder, tipping his head so that his cap wouldn't get in the way when he whispered into Bill's ear. "I love you, Bill."

Tom found himself flat on his back along the length of the car's backseat with very little transition of time. He looked up into Bill's wide, excited eyes. Then they were kissing, Bill's mouth pressing onto him hungrily.

"I love you," Bill said, muffled as he spoke directly into Tom's mouth, smothering him with another kiss, then another. "I love you, Tomi, more than anything."

Tom licked at Bill's lips. Vanilla and mango. With a pleased noise, he parted his lips as Bill attacked them, tugging at Tom's bottom lip with his teeth and running his tongue stud along the length of them.

Tom slid his hands down Bill's tight t-shirt until his fingers toyed with the hem, even though he knew it was a mistake. Bad enough they were kissing; if he slipped his hands up to touch the warm skin of Bill's back, he was probably going to want to fuck him before they left the car.

Bill was making soft happy noises into Tom's open mouth, working his tongue back and forth against Tom's and drawing back, meshing their lips together with quick hungry nibbles. He had Tom pinned to the seat with a firm grip on his upper arms, but even in the midst of his excitement he'd been careful to grab the fabric of Tom's shirt, not touching skin.

Tom groaned into his twin's mouth and angled his hips up. Now all he could think of was Bill riding him, sitting on his cock so pretty, his mouth slack with pleasure and their eyes locked as they approached orgasm. He wanted that so bad he almost told the driver to turn around.

Bill pulled off his mouth with an audible pop, releasing Tom's moist lower lip. "Fuck, Tom, I can't think," he complained.

"You tackled me," was Tom's unhelpful response, and he pushed his thumbs under the hem of Bill's t-shirt, just his thumbs, stroking there along the silken-smooth heat of Bill's skin.

Bill's pupils flared wide and Tom growled; suddenly two thumbs'-lengths of skin wasn't anywhere close to enough. He broke Bill's grip on him and flipped them over, putting Bill onto the backseat of the car, one of his long legs crowded up against the back rest, the other dangling off the seat. He settled between Bill's legs and braced himself over his twin's upper body, dipping his head for a kiss.

"Augh," Bill said, as Tom's cap brushed hard against his forehead. He turned his face away.

With an impatient noise, Tom tugged it to the side so that it wouldn't interfere, and moved in to kiss Bill again. Now Bill accepted his kiss eagerly, making those same hungry noises as before while Tom licked his lips open, clearing them of the remnants of the gloss and chasing it inside to taste Bill's tongue.

"Yes," Bill moaned, as Tom broke the kiss and moved down Bill's neck. His arms clutched around Tom's middle and he pushed his groin up. "Yes, Tomi, yes, let's do it. Pull my jeans down a little and push my legs up."

That sounded like a fabulous idea. Tom's cock perked even more in his boxers and he was actually getting up on his hands and knees to put Bill's excellent suggestion into practice when he remembered one little detail. Tom dropped his head into the crook of Bill's neck and groaned. "Don't have any slick stuff," he complained.

"Damn it!" Bill's fist pounded into the car bench and Tom heard a spring snap in its depths. "Don't you have _anything?_ "

"Uh...how much lip gloss do you have?"

The car screeched to a stop and inertial drift kept them moving; Tom gripped the seat of the car with both hands, jamming his leg down and keeping Bill from rolling off the wide seat. Bill flinched as he thudded against Tom's arm and leg, but he recouped and slumped onto the seat with a frustrated sigh. 

The driver cleared his throat, loudly. "We're at the address you provided."

Tom rested his forehead beside Bill's ear.

"Later," Bill promised, patting Tom's shoulder comfortingly as though _he_ hadn't been gagging for it a moment before.

Tom had to adjust himself and wait for a moment before getting out of the car. He joined his twin at the curb and they watched together as the car zoomed away at once, rejoining traffic.

"I'm surprised he came back," Bill said, threading his fingers into Tom's. "It is the same guy from last night, right?"

Tom shrugged. "He gets paid to drive me around, I don't see what his problem is."

Bill chuckled, turning and drawing Tom along into step with him. "Humans have this thing about public displays of affection. I don't really understand it but they get so flustered. I mean, you saw Andi this morning – he was red!"

"Whatever," Tom muttered, not thrilled that Andreas had somehow come back into the conversation.

"Why have you been renting a car, anyhow?" Bill asked curiously.

"Oh." Tom bit at his lip ring as Bill walked them toward the front steps of a brownstone home. "Well, I don't have a license yet. Wasn't sure if I wanted to go through the bother of going through either the proper channels or the illegal ones."

Bill nodded, accepting that answer.

At the top of the steps Bill knocked with his free hand. Tom glanced over at his twin, simply enjoying the feel of Bill's hand in his; he rubbed his thumb over one of Bill's knuckles. Bill tipped a radiant grin in his direction.

The door opened, and a small blond woman with their eyes stood on the threshold.

"Hi, Mom," Bill told the woman, a cheerful lilt in his voice, but his smile was gone.

Tom understood. He'd been so pissed at Jorg; he'd raged, he'd given serious thought to rising up and killing him before he'd realized the best revenge would be to go out and _find_ his twin. He'd certainly been angry and cold for years to Jorg even before discovering their father had kept him from his twin for most of their lives.

"Bill," Simone Trumper began, then looked from Bill to the equally tall figure beside him. She froze, then quavered, "Oh...oh gods."

"So," Bill said, advancing on their mother. "I think we have a lot to talk about, don't you?" Simone stumbled against the door as Bill blew past her, dragging Tom with him by their interlocked hands.

Tom's first impression of the mother he'd never known was that she was small and slender of stature, but her power buzzed over his skin. She was a witch, a powerful one, and it was obvious from her psychic signature why Jorg had chosen her to bear his child.

Bill dragged him to a living room area off the front hallway, turning and placing his free hand on his cocked hip. Simone followed them at a slower pace, her expression drawn, her hands braiding together.

"Wo-would you like something to drink?" Simone began politely, but her voice wavered. Acrid fear rose off her.

"Cut the crap, Mom," Bill said. "You know who this is, and you know why we came."

Simone inhaled sharply, and looked from Bill to Tom.

Tom met her gaze unwaveringly, pressing his lips to a thin line.

"Tom," Simone acknowledged, and her face crumpled. She pressed both hands to her face and her knees folded as though she were a string-cut puppet; she buckled into the chair behind her and sobbed.

Bill stayed where he was by Tom's side, making no move to cross the room and comfort their mother. They waited, watching her like hawks, as she sobbed into her hands for a moment. She quieted quickly, wiping at her face and lifting eyes that were still bright with the sheen of more tears.

"I never thought I would see you again, Tom," Simone said quietly.

Bill fidgeted beside Tom, making a small impatient gesture with his free hand, but Tom squeezed down on his fingers.

"What happened?" Tom prompted their mother, his tone equally low. He'd gotten some answers from Jost at House Kaulitz, but he wanted to hear Simone's side of the story.

Simone straightened, wiping at her face again with the backs of her hands, and she lifted her chin. "It was nearly eighteen years ago that I met your father, Jorg Kaulitz. He wanted a child, and he was willing to give me a considerable sum – I was young, and struggling to get a business started. And so." She laughed, the sound mirthless.

Tom sighed and cast about the spacious living room area; Simone's opening lines had the cadence of a story that would take some time to tell. He pulled Bill down onto the couch behind them.

"He was so disturbed when I gave birth to twins," Simone continued. "That should have been a big clue, but I didn't know the Nephilim lore; I didn't know that twins were considered volatile, chaotic forces, ill-omened more often than not."

Bill's head whipped up and he stared at Tom. "Really?" he whispered.

"Apparently," Tom replied with a grim smile. "Though in this case, I'd say it's a matter of a self-fulfilling prophecy, wouldn't you?"

Bill frowned, then his attention zeroed back in on their mother.

"I didn't know, I wouldn't have cared. I was so absorbed in the two of you, my beautiful sons, my twins," Simone continued. She wiped at her eyes again. "I never would have separated you, for good or ill. Please believe that. I would have kept...but it doesn't matter. Jorg took you, Tom, shortly after I'd weaned both of you."

Tom was nodding slowly but Bill said sharply, "Why Tom?"

Simone blinked. "Oh. Well, because Tom was born first," she replied. "Jorg wanted to get an heir with me, an heir for House Kaulitz. And Tom is the elder by ten minutes."

Tom had already guessed as much, but he was interested to hear the little details, things he didn't know. He hadn't known they were only separated by ten minutes.

"Why didn't you..." Bill began, and Tom already knew the shape of his question and the answer. "You could've tried to get him back, at least!"

Simone shook her head immediately, going pale beneath her makeup. "Jorg is a Nephilim, a full-blood Nephilim with all the resources of a minor demon House," she replied at once. It was clear the thought had haunted her over the years. "I was so happy that Jorg left you _alive,_ Bill; though I had some powerful wards of my own, it could have become a fight to the death. Mine and yours. I didn't go after Tom because... Jorg let me keep you. I knew that was the price."

Tom bit his lip ring and nodded; he didn't like it, but he understood. Jorg had far more resources than even the most powerful witch.

"I never would have separated you," Simone repeated, staring at her hands. Fresh tears were collecting in the corners of her eyes. "If I'd had any choice. He left me none."

Tom squeezed down on Bill's hand as his brother's leg began to bounce restlessly.

"But why didn't you tell me?" Bill cried. "My whole life, I... I've... you should have told me. You never once said or even hinted that I have a twin."

Simone was nodding even before Bill had finished his diatribe. "You were so devastated, Bill, in that first year after Jorg took Tom. Even though you were so young, barely an infant, you couldn't cope with Tom being taken from us like that. You cried almost nonstop for the whole first year, and even then..." She cut herself off, looking back and forth between them.

"You should have told him," Tom couldn't stop himself from saying, because that was how he'd felt about his own situation. Though if Jorg had ever said anything to _him,_ Tom knew he would have left House Kaulitz that much sooner, no matter what the price.

Simone sighed heavily. "I thought it was better for you, Bill, growing up without knowing," she replied. "Once you finally stopped crying, I was hoping... I figured, you might have buried the memory of Tom. Bill, you... I never wanted to see you like that again, catatonic. I was scared that telling you might trigger something, and so... I didn't tell you. I thought it was possible you might never really know what you were missing."

"I've always known I was missing something, just not who," Bill said at once, holding tighter to Tom's hand. "Then he found me."

Simone nodded, her shoulders bowing. "I was wrong," she admitted. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. For not being strong enough to protect both of you. For not telling you the truth, Bill." She looked up, wiping at her eyes again and summoning up a wavery smile. She looked back and forth between them, then at their joined hands, then met Tom's eyes. "I... don't expect you to forgive me."

Tom shrugged. He was still deciding whether there was something to forgive. The one choice that Simone had had was whether to tell Bill the truth; that he had a twin, that he was a Nephilim of the House Kaulitz. Then again, if she had told Bill earlier, and Bill had decided to come looking for _Tom,_ outside the Walls that protected the human cities from the Nephilim world... the smallest of shudders passed through Tom. Bill shifted beside him, giving him an inquisitive look.

"Would either of you...like some tea, or coffee, or anything else?" Simone ventured.

It was so normal, so polite, so _human._ Tom had to keep himself from snorting aloud.

Bill straightened, flashing his wide smile at their mother. "I'm starved!" he declared. "Tom and I haven't eaten this morning, Mom. And I could do with some coffee."

Tom gave his brother a bemused little smile. It was true; now that Bill called his attention to it, Tom's own stomach was giving him menacing rumbles. They'd depleted their fair share of calories together over the past twelve or so hours. They'd been too wrapped up in each other to eat, to do anything but enjoy one another once the final hurdles had been cleared, and that was fine by Tom.

"Tom?" Simone prompted.

"Sure, double whatever Bill's having; I'm starved," Tom replied easily.

"Good thing I stocked the fridge yesterday," Simone commented, rising from her chair and heading for a door opposite the hallway from which they'd entered. "I already know Bill's appetite, which is three times that of most boys his age."

Bill leaned against Tom's shoulder with an unapologetic smile, giving their mother a wave. Once Simone's heartbeat reached the far end of the house, Bill asked him, "So what do you think?"

"She wasn't lying," Tom said, his reply slow as he reviewed the entire encounter.

"I know that," Bill said dismissively, cuddling up against Tom's shoulder and pulling Tom's hand into his lap, trapping it between his thighs.

Tom's eyes rolled back into his head a little. It didn't produce quite the same violent reaction as touching Bill's skin, but having his hand pressed between his brother's thighs sent a tug straight to his dick. "I, uh, I think..." he began intelligently, struggling to produce a sentence that didn't conclude with 'I'm gonna have you on our mother's couch.' "I think if you keep squeezing my hand like that I'm gonna..." He trailed off, letting his imagination pleasantly fill in the blanks, angling his head to the side to take Bill's mouth.

Bill eeped and jerked his head away, though he flexed his thighs around Tom's hand again anyhow. "About what Mom said to us, not your illicit designs on my ass." He grinned as he said it.

Tom tried to marshal his thoughts into some semblance of order. Something had occurred to him, earlier, but the play of Bill's muscles around his trapped hand was steadily draining blood from Tom's brain to his cock.

"She might have done the right thing," he said slowly. It pained him to say it. He'd been yearning for Bill his whole life, and Tom didn't need to be told that his twin felt the same way. They'd missed so much of each other, so many firsts.

"Explain," Bill said, sharp, releasing Tom's hand from between his thighs and pushing it between them as though giving it back though their fingers remained clasped. His knee began to jitter again.

"If she'd told you," Tom asked, "what would you have done?"

"I'd have gone looking for you," Bill replied at once. "No matter when she'd told me. The way that you came to find me."

Tom nodded, and looked into Bill's eyes, really looked at him, wanting that connection that allowed no uncertainty. "That's why she was right not to tell you." When Bill's eyes flared with outrage, Tom hastened to say, "You're the big fish in the little pond here, Bill. Anyone who tried to hurt you, use or abuse you, would get a nasty surprise. _Here,_ in New York."

Bill gave Tom a sharp nod, pulse quieting now as he gave Tom's words his full attention.

"Out there, outside the Walls, in the Nephilim world it's a different playing field. It's brutal, Bill. I know you could hold your own eventually, and _together_ I think even now the two of us could be a force to reckon with. But you, by yourself..." Tom trailed off and considered some of the members of the House guard. If Bill had managed to find House Kaulitz, that would have been who he'd encounter first. Jorg's orders would have been absolute. Tom's jaw tightened.

"You're worried for me," Bill observed. "You think they could have hurt me."

"I think they would have killed you or worse," Tom said with a shudder. He broke Bill's grip on his hand and slung his arm around Bill's shoulders. He was chilled by the very thought and needed his twin as close as they could get without being naked, to remind him that Bill was safe and alive and _here._

"Worse?" Bill prodded with a dubious frown. He leaned against Tom's side, responding wordlessly to Tom's tension.

"They could have taken you from me, enslaved you," Tom said, turning his head and speaking the words muffled against Bill's hair. He could hardly stand to speak the words aloud. "Someone could have kept you from me forever."

Bill shuddered, shaking his head until his hair tickled Tom's cheek. "But that didn't happen," he stated definitively. "You're here and we're together and nothing's going to tear us apart."

"Not now," Tom agreed, reaching out with his other hand to press against Bill's flat stomach, traveling upward and resting over his heart, then cupping his jaw. "Not ever again."

Bill's eyes were dark, his pupils dilating, his lips already parted. "Are you worried for me, Tomi?" he husked. "Even though nothing happened?"

Tom nodded uncomfortably. It hurt even to contemplate. "That's why...it's all right if you're mad at her, but I think our mother did the right thing. Not telling you. It had to be this way, me finding you; better than the alternative."

"Me, dead," Bill supplied, his dark eyes going flat. Now he shuddered, too, leaning in to nose softly at Tom's chin. "Would you have even known?"

"I would have," Tom said with absolute certainty. "I'd have known, and would've taken out whoever did it, and followed you soon after."

Bill pressed his lips to Tom's chin, then moved higher to place another kiss beside Tom's mouth. "I think that's the hottest thing anyone has ever said to me," he said, ducking to hide his face against Tom's neck. Tom could feel Bill's sly smile against his skin.

Tom groaned a little; had he been good enough, restrained enough, to be a bit bad now? Bill's lips on his neck felt so amazing, Tom began thinking ahead to those sensual lips on other parts of his body. He massaged the hinge of Bill's jaw with his fingers and kissed what he could reach, Bill's ear. His tongue flicked out to trace the delicate-seeming outer rim of Bill's ear and Bill made a low noise against Tom's throat, gusting hot breath against Tom's skin.

They shifted together in unison, turning toward each other without needing to discuss it, putting their arms around one another. Bill angled in for a kiss, reaching up with an irritated little growl to tug Tom's cap to the side and get it out of their way. Their lips met, hard, then locked together. Tom couldn't even think of a deeper kiss, for the moment. He was so wrapped up in the feel of Bill's lips against him, Bill's warm lithe body in his arms, that all he could do was drag his closed mouth against Bill's over and over. Eventually Bill's lips parted against his and they breathed hotly into one another's mouths for a moment, foreheads resting together.

"You are...everything," Tom told him, cupping Bill's jaw in his hands. He didn't need anything more than what he had right now. The House could be blasted back to the hells below, for all he cared.

Bill grinned, ducking his head then angling in for a butterfly kiss over Tom's cheek. "Funny," he said softly. "I was thinking the same thing about you. Even before I consciously knew what we are to each other." He wrapped his arms around Tom's waist, then without warning he reached in and delved under Tom's baggy shirt, seeking skin and caressing Tom's lower back.

Tom swore and jerked in Bill's arms as the shock of skin contact spilled all through him. He climbed onto his brother, pressing him down flat on the couch and attacking his mouth. Bill was chuckling. His amusement turned to soft moans as Tom sucked on his lower lip. Tom dipped his tongue over Bill's bottom lip, flicking across the gap of parted lips and tasting him briefly, then swiping over Bill's upper lip. He teased his brother's mouth with soft shallow kisses until Bill writhed beneath him and clawed his lower back.

"Mm, more," Bill moaned, trying to shove Tom's shirt up.

"You sure about that?" Tom gasped, but he was already grinding down against Bill. Their clothed erections came into jolting contact and they both cried out.

"Yes, yes," Bill chanted, flicking his tongue out against Tom's lips, flexing his hands on Tom's lower back like talons. "Want you... _in_ me, wanna..."

Tom opened his mouth to capture Bill's tongue, pressing his own against the tantalizing point of the tongue stud. He could hear movement close by in the house, the pulse of a heartbeat besides their own. He didn't particularly care if their mother discovered them writhing together on the couch, but Bill should at least have a say in the matter. He pulled his mouth from Bill's and said, low-voiced, "She's coming."

"I want to come," Bill grumbled, but he extracted his hands from Tom's shirt and sat up as Tom took that for his answer and climbed off him. Bill tugged his disheveled clothing into place as Tom skewed his cap so that the brim was restored to its proper alignment.

Simone returned to the living room bearing two cups of steaming coffee. She handed a full mug of liquid so light it appeared blond to Bill, and passed a mug of black coffee over to Tom.

Tom eyed the coffee in his hand. "No sugar?"

Simone nodded, her expression somewhere between bashful and nervous. "It's black."

"How did you know?" he inquired, biting down on his lip ring.

Simone tilted her head to the side. "A mother knows these things," she replied, looking from Tom to Bill and flushing. "Er. Then, I'll leave you to it." She beat a hasty retreat back to the kitchen.

Bill elbowed Tom, muttering, "She's not just any witch, you know."

Tom smirked his response. "Of course not. She was amazing enough to give birth to us, after all."

Bill cracked up, then sipped greedily at his coffee. He re-settled himself on the couch, pulling his legs up underneath him, boots and all.

Tom put both hands around his coffee mug to prevent himself from reaching for Bill. "She figure we're together?"

Bill made big eyes at Tom over the rim of his mug. "Mmr?" He nursed at his coffee, holding it up to his mouth with both hands.

Tom shook his head a little and tongued at his lip ring. If Bill wanted to play oblivious where their mother was concerned, making out with him on the living room couch was not the best of tactics. He finished his coffee in a couple of gulps and set it on the table before them. If Simone was intuitive enough to correctly guess how Tom took his coffee, it was a fair bet to say she knew what had been going on in her own living room moments before. Tom thought that was a good sign, seeing as how she hadn't tried to act offended and kick them out over it.

"Hey," Bill said, setting his own mug down and leaning in toward Tom, setting a hand on his thigh. "Want to come upstairs and see my old room?" His tongue swiped the corner of his mouth as though to catch at stray drops of coffee.

Tom grinned and seized Bill's hand, fully prepared to drag him upstairs and enjoy all the ravishment Bill's teasing tongue implied.

"Breakfast!" Simone's voice called from the kitchen. "Come and get it!"

Tom sighed and Bill stuck his lower lip out, then patted Tom's knee comfortingly and said, "Later." Bill got up, not going around the table but squeezing directly in front of Tom, his ass in his snug jeans only centimeters from Tom's face.

"Nice, Bill," Tom hissed. He waited a moment after his twin had passed, then got up from the couch and made some adjustments before following. Tom had never lived in the human world before, but he was fairly certain most family reunions didn't involve coping with the last-minute erection your brother had given you before sitting down to table.

Tom was going to pursue that 'later' with a vengeance. For now, he was off to have breakfast with his twin and their mother. He'd found that Simone had done her best for Bill, after all, and Tom couldn't fault her for it. He had nothing to forgive.

Bill popped back around the corner, clinging to the frame of the open living room entrance. He slowly, deliberately, opened his mouth to stick his tongue out far enough to flash the tongue stud. Then he disappeared around the corner again.

Oh gods, Tom was going to tap that HARD, though probably not in Bill's childhood bedroom. That thought was not helping Tom's arousal at all, so he tried to push the thought away as he went to join his twin and Simone in the kitchen at the back of the house.

The Trumper kitchen was large and spacious, with dark wooden paneling and cabinets and the walls painted a light creamy yellow. Mosaic tile covered the floor and there was a big kitchen island across from the sink overhung with a chandelier of copper-bottomed pots and pans. The backyard-facing wall of the kitchen was lined with big, rectangular windows and a round wooden table stood between the kitchen island and the windows.

It was comfortable, peaceful, and it gave Tom a glimpse into how Bill's life must have been, growing up. At House Kaulitz, Tom had taken his meals in his own room when he could, and when his presence had been commanded at his father's table in the wide, high stone dining hall, it had always been cold and formal. Most conversations between Tom and Jorg had descended into either a test of Tom's knowledge, or a contest of wills.

Simone stood to one side of the kitchen island, tending to three sizzling frying pans at once. She was heaping platters with scrambled eggs, bacon and sausage, and stacks of golden pancakes. She wiped her hands off on a towel and turned the burners off, glancing at Tom and offering him a tentative but warm smile.

Tom returned it. He was already favorably disposed toward the woman who'd given birth to him and Bill. She had done her best for Bill, and Tom would do his best now to get to know their mother.

And she hadn't lied. That was crucial. Tom wouldn't have forgiven a lie.

Bill had already seated himself at the round kitchen table with a fresh mug of coffee. His legs were tucked up against his chest and he looked up at Tom with a wide, almost manically cheerful smile as Tom approached.

Tom rumpled Bill's hair in passing, snickered in response to Bill's protest, and seated himself beside his twin. He looked around the spacious, homey kitchen again; it was surreal to be in a family place like this, the human definition of normal by any standard Tom had seen, while thoughts of _sex, sex, sex,_ battered at his brain. He didn't even have to look at Bill; it was a constant undercurrent coursing through him.

Platters of steaming, fragrant food were placed before them, and Tom's stomach let out a vicious snarl, reminding him why he was here and not balls-deep in Bill right now. They were definitely mated, the thought struck Tom; nothing but that most visceral bond would make Tom forego even food for fucking. He could smell Bill's alluring scent even now, it was stronger to him than food or at least more compelling, but there was no sense wasting Simone's effort and Tom really was hungry.

"Yay, pancakes," Bill cheered, forking at least half of the immense stack onto his plate.

Tom couldn't suppress a grin at that enthusiasm, then grabbed for the plate when it appeared that Bill was going to keep the whole towering stack. "Come on, don't make me fight you for them," he chided. And wouldn't that end well, Tom thought with a small internal groan.

"I'd win," Bill said confidently, stabbing out with his fork to snag one last pancake and flopping it onto his haul.

Tom raised an incredulous brow. "You think so."

"Mm-hmm," Bill replied with an assured nod. He collected a giant forkful of pancakes then flickered his tongue out at Tom. "Because I'd cheat."

Tom shifted in his chair and concentrated on filling his plate up with food. He had to look away from Bill, now, or there would be unfortunate results – well, unfortunate as far as the table, the food, and their mother were concerned. Bill passed over the plate of bacon and sausage without comment, leaving a substantial serving for Tom.

"More coffee?" Simone inquired, hovering at Tom's elbow with a silver urn.

"Oh," Tom said, glancing up at Simone with a slow blink. He'd been concentrating on _not_ focusing on Bill to the exclusion of other things and she had snuck up on him, though peripherally he had been aware of her movement in the kitchen. "Sure, but I left my mug in the living room."

"I'll get it," Simone replied, and she was off.

Tom studied the kitchen now as he made inroads on his breakfast, because if he were to turn his attention back to Bill the two of them would be lost. There were discreet magical fixtures everywhere, he noted on a second appraisal. The subtle current of power was evident even here, someplace innocuous as Simone's kitchen. There were glyphs painted or etched onto various surfaces, and Tom sensed wards that bespoke protection and harmony.

"She's something, isn't she?" Bill spoke to him around a mouthful of food. His words were garbled but Tom could still understand him.

Tom cleaved a sausage in two and nodded. Bill was fishing. "I don't hold anything against her," he answered the unspoken question.

Bill relaxed in his chair beside Tom. The legs crammed between his chest and the table splayed out to each side of him, and his boots hit the tiled floor with a soft thud. "Do you think--" he began, and cut himself off as Simone re-entered the kitchen. 

Tom had a pretty good idea of what Bill had intended to say, though, and he nodded, making sure that Bill saw it. He was at ease here, and he trusted his instincts. Besides, it would be odd but...nice, to stay in touch with a parent he didn't hate and view as a rival.

Simone set a fresh cup of coffee before Tom and stood between the twins for a moment, then moved toward the fridge. "Juice!"

"Mom, stop fluttering around and sit down, you're going to make Tom nervous," Bill said loudly. "Besides, we're not going to drink juice when we've got coffee."

Simone joined them at the table with a rueful shrug. "Getting in a bit of mothering while I can, I guess," she said like an apology, and smiled at Tom.

Tom chased the last bit of pancake around his plate with a piece of sausage and was surprised to note that Bill's plate was already empty.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to inhale your food?" Simone demanded, turning toward Bill.

"At least one time more, obviously," Bill replied, snickering when their mother sent a rude gesture his way.

Simone leaned against the kitchen table and laced her hands together. "Tom, I don't know what your plans are now, but...I'm hoping that if you stay in the city we can..." She hesitated. "I don't have any right and you're an adult now, but I'd like to get to know you."

"That's what I want, too," Tom replied, affable. Nephilim didn't get attached to family; not parents, not siblings, not children. That was the rule and that had been how Tom himself had been raised - everyone was competition except your mate. But this was the human world, and Simone was human, and Tom already felt an odd affinity for the motherly blond witch who had birthed him. Odd, because he wasn't sympathetic to anyone as a general rule. Yet they'd cleared the air regarding Tom and Bill's separation and Bill _wanted_ Tom to give Simone a chance. Maybe that was enough.

"Really?" Simone said, surprise eclipsing hesitance on her face. She smiled, deep pleasant lines appearing beside her nose and mouth. "I'm so glad."

Tom had finished his own breakfast and he sat back in his chair, tipping his head to the side to regard his twin. Bill met his gaze and gave him an impish little grin, wrinkling his nose.

"Tom, do you have a place to stay--" Simone began.

Bill thudded his boot-heels on the floor. "He's with me, Mom," he declared, reaching between the gap across their chairs for Tom's hand.

Tom twined his fingers with Bill's and let a faint smile cross his mouth at his twin's possessiveness. "I have a hotel room but I'll be checking out and staying with Bill."

Simone looked at Tom, appraising, then at Bill. This was it, the moment where either she'd push or back off. "Your apartment's so tiny, Bill, and aren't you paying the single occupancy?"

Bill scoffed. "Rules are for the narrow-minded and the unimaginative."

Simone took a breath, clearly thinking about her choice of words as she gazed at Bill. "I want you to be sure you think about what you're doing," she said, her words slow and her expression cautious. Her hazel eyes moved from Bill to Tom, letting Tom know he was included in her admonishment.

Bill sighed through his nose then got up from his chair, skidding it back over the tile. "Try to be a little more subtle, Mom," he replied, then he swung a leg over Tom, straddling him and seating himself on Tom's lap so they were face to face. "You want to know if I know what I'm doing?" Tom grunted as Bill settled heavily into place over his thighs and their eyes met; Bill's eyes were already shining with excitement at their close proximity. He leaned forward and licked at Tom's closed mouth, then bit Tom's lower lip. Bill pulled back, keeping Tom's lip between his teeth until it escaped Bill's bite when he pulled back too far.

There was a sharp, displeased intake of breath from across the table.

Tom settled his hands over Bill's waist, careful to keep it above the t-shirt but unable to resist that much.

Bill craned his head to look over his shoulder at their mother and added, "I know exactly what I'm doing." He giggled a bit and rocked in Tom's lap as though unable to resist the innuendo.

"Bill!" Simone exclaimed, equal parts dismayed and irritated. There was no surprise in her voice, though.

Tom grunted again, lower, as Bill rocked in his lap. He gripped at Bill's belt now to try and keep him in place. He leaned in, anyhow, tonguing the line of exposed skin above the neck of Bill's t-shirt and inhaled, nuzzling against Bill's pulse and closing his eyes.

"As usual with you," Simone said, expelling a frustrated sigh. "It's never been any use to tell you what to do when you really want something, regardless of whether it's against rules, or morals, or common decency." She sounded affectionate but still dismayed, and she'd averted her eyes from them.

"Morals according to whom?" Tom asked, his voice cold as he shifted and sat up straighter in his chair in order to look over Bill's shoulder at their mother. "We're Nephilim. No matter how you raised Bill, it breeds true – Jorg must have told you." He _had_ been somewhat uncertain on how a human upbringing would have influenced his twin – but then he'd met him. Bill was every bit as Nephilim as Tom.

Simone sighed. "Yes, I know. I just... I hadn't expected this to be the result." She met his eyes now and there was regret in her expression, a fair amount of resignation, but no condemnation. She wasn't rejecting them, but she was making it clear she didn't have to like it either. "It's not... it's not something that humans would be quick to accept, and, well, you're _twins_ \- it's not..."

Bill hitched up in Tom's lap and laid his head against Tom's shoulder, yoking his arms possessively around Tom's neck. "Not normal?" He snorted. "Like I've ever been normal."

"Well..." Simone faltered as she looked at the two of them, then she frowned.

Tom tightened his arms around Bill's waist, but it wasn't quite enough. He wouldn't let himself touch skin, still, but he slid his hands down, slithering past jean pockets and gripping at Bill's ass. It was beyond incest, but how would Simone react to hearing that they were pretty sure they were mated? Whatever; Bill had already demonstrated enough for both of them, Tom wasn't going to drop an additional bomb.

Simone gasped and averted her eyes even though neither of them were doing anything extraordinarily shocking - then again, Tom was a poor judge of human values. "Your auras," she exclaimed, then looked up again with a newfound expression of respect, almost awe. "Manon above, no wonder Jorg was frightened. When you join your auras, it's a great deal more powerful than either of your individual auras. Sweet gods, I've never seen anything like it."

Bill eased against Tom in his lap, fingers curling into Tom's dreads, mouth opening warm against Tom's neck. "I didn't know we'd joined our auras," he said, making it sound lascivious.

"No sex at the breakfast table," Simone snapped, standing up and beginning to gather plates. "I certainly can't stop you from being intimate, twins or no - and after seeing your auras I understand a bit better how inevitable that was - but as your mother and the mistress of this house, there are lines I won't allow you to cross."

Tom wanted to growl at that; it was like a challenge to his own autonomy, but he and Bill had already pushed up against or flat-out knocked over plenty of boundaries that morning. He made himself recognize that he and Bill needed to leave it alone, now, and let it rest given how far they'd pushed their human mother without turning her against them. A small noise of discontent did manage to escape him and Bill shifted over his lap, silencing him by mashing their lips together briefly. When he pulled back Tom tried to follow, but Bill was turning his head and Tom's kiss landed on his neck.

"Great!" Bill exclaimed enthusiastically. "Now that we've got all that worked out, can I give Tom a tour of my old room?"

Simone turned, planting her hands on her hips. "No, you can't," she stated plainly. "Not with those auras. Some other time, maybe. Right now I'd rather you wreck Tom's hotel room, dears, or at least go back to Bill's hole in the wall."

"It's not a hole in the wall, it's a wicked loft apartment!" Bill exclaimed, aggrieved.

Tom stood and his twin clung to his neck as he did so, adjusting to the change in position with barely a raised brow. "Come on, Bill, let's go break some furniture," Tom muttered in Bill's ear.

"Oh?" Bill looked at him, brightening. "Oh! Maybe we'd better go to your hotel, then; we already need to replace my couch."

Simone covered her eyes with one hand. "I love you both, and your mother doesn't need to hear those kinds of details."

"That wasn't even bad!" Bill said indignantly as Tom took him by the hand and led him from the kitchen. "Not at all! Bad would have been telling you what we did to break it..."

"Bye, Mom," Tom said, having decided to call her the same thing Bill did. She was his mother too, after all. "We'll be in touch."

Simone's eyes glimmered. "Goodbye, Tom. Bye, Bill. We'll have you over for dinner when you're less, um..."

"Right," Tom acknowledged. He squeezed Bill's hand and watched with a bemused smile as Bill ducked his head and gave him an almost shy grin.

Simone waved them off and disappeared through the door on the far side of the kitchen. The door snicked shut.

"There's a bedroom right upstairs and Tom and I are horny right now, I don't see why you're being so stingy," Bill ranted, only shutting up when Tom reeled him in for a kiss over the kitchen threshold.

"Really, Bill?" Tom murmured against his brother's neck, flattered that Bill wanted him that badly.

"No," Bill returned in the same manner, "but it's getting us out of here faster, isn't it?"

"Point," Tom conceded, and fumbled in his pants for his mobile device. "And the sooner we get to the hotel--"

"The sooner you can get in me," Bill concluded, breathing the words hot against Tom's ear.

Tom's shaking fingers couldn't locate the driving service's number fast enough.


	6. Chapter Six

Bill was aglow with relief over how both twin and mother had handled a potentially volatile confrontation. Now the confrontation was over, his mother was still alive, she hadn't truly betrayed him, and she wasn't going to give them any serious grief over the very physical nature of their relationship. He was still nursing a fair grudge against Simone for keeping even the knowledge of Tom from him, but Bill knew they'd get past it. 

With that tense meeting behind them, his mind was mostly at ease, life was good, and Bill could concentrate on getting Tom's hand someplace more exciting than his back pocket.

"Come on," Bill urged, pushing Tom gently against the rail that bordered the steps of the Trumper brownstone. It creaked a warning under their combined weight. 

"Not on the _street,_ Bill, I know that much," Tom said, casting a glance around the block. "We'd get picked up by the city police for whatever it is, undecency--"

"Indecent exposure," Bill supplied, riding his t-shirt up his midriff with one hand and sending a challenging look through his eyelashes at Tom.

"Fuck," Tom swore, low and heartfelt.

The town car with its tinted windows pulled up to the curb right then. Abruptly, strong calloused fingers ringed Bill's wrist, and he was being dragged down the front steps for the car.

"Abductor," Bill cried, delighted, putting up no resistance at all as he was shoved into the backseat of the car. That reminded him of something. "Hey, let me borrow your mobile, I should call Andi."

"Back to my hotel," Tom directed the driver, then bent dark glittering eyes on Bill. "What? No way. What did you do with your mobile?"

"Broke it when I chucked it at the side table," Bill said off-handedly. He neglected to mention the sizable dent he'd also left in the wall. It was a measure of how hot he'd been for Tom; Bill was careless about property damage in the heat of the moment but he was usually more conscientious about his lifeline, his mobile. He hoped that the chip inside of it was still intact. 

"You can call him on your own mobile, then," Tom said, smirking.

Bill put his hands up to both sides of his twin's face. "What is this, where is this coming from?" he wondered aloud, scrunching his nose up. "You already _have_ me, Tom. Now be nice to Andi, I want the two of you to be friends."

Tom opened his mouth, no doubt to object, and Bill took advantage of the opening and swooped in to capture his twin's lips. "Mmm, you taste so good," Bill said, licking along the full line of Tom's bottom lip and teasing with the lip ring with his own tongue the way he'd seen Tom doing it.

"I taste like breakfast," Tom mumbled, when Bill pulled away from his mouth to nudge along his jaw, seeking out his ear.

"Breakfast was good," Bill said, muffled. "You taste better." He rested a hand on Tom's belt buckle. Now he wanted his mouth around something more satisfying than food.

"Bill, no," Tom said, utterly insincere.

Bill craned his head toward the front of the car, toward the beleaguered driver, and found the man's eyes on him in the rearview mirror. He wasn't surprised. "Can you hurry it up?" Bill called. "If you can't get to the hotel in ten minutes, I'm giving him incentive to fuck me right through the seat into the trunk."

The driver's eyes widened and the car accelerated.

Bill grinned at Tom, who was sprawled back against his seat looking rather dazed. "Ever gotten head in a car before?"

Tom shook his head, eyes sparking hot with desire. He surged forward to grip the back of Bill's neck and haul him into a kiss.

Bill moaned encouragement against Tom's tongue. He was so fired up, his erection wedged uncomfortably in his jeans, and it was all because of Tom's mouth sweet and so wonderfully urgent against his. He wanted Tom to lay him against the seat right now and do him, slide home into him again right fucking now. Some part of his brain recognized that was inadvisable, so he kept his hands above Tom's waist for now.

Twin. Brother. Lover. Bill had everything now, all the missing pieces that had left him hollow and longing had shivered into place. He lost concentration for the kiss and simply hugged Tom, his mouth going slack.

Tom embraced him back, his arms tight around Bill. "What's that about?" he asked against Bill's ear.

"You," Bill replied honestly, burying his face against Tom's neck and breathing him deep.

Tom kissed his ear and hugged him tighter.

They stayed like that for a moment until Bill began to lap at Tom's neck and climbed onto him, straddling his twin's thighs.

"Bill--" Tom began, though he'd loosened his grip enough to permit Bill the freedom to move.

"Relax," Bill said, nuzzling up Tom's neck, latching onto his earlobe. He sucked it into his mouth and Tom's cock twitched where it was pressed against the front of Bill's jeans.

"Ahh, hells, gonna fuck you so hard," Tom promised.

"Do it, I want you to," Bill moaned, releasing his hold on Tom's ear and pulling back until they were face to face. "Tomi, want you to fuck me right through the mattress."

"It'll be in shreds," Tom said. He grabbed Bill's shoulders and hauled him close for a kiss.

Bill parted his lips eagerly to his twin. Tom attacked his mouth – not the gentle, almost exploratory kisses of earlier – now it was all teeth and tongue, ravishing. They bit and thrust up against one another, and it was hotter and more desperate than anything Bill had known, and way better than even last night's urgency. Now Bill was fully aware that he was with his other half, his everything. Not to mention, his Tomi wasn't human, and Bill knew he didn't have to be gentle or careful of a human partner. "Tomi," he said against his twin's mouth, and Tom crushed his mouth over Bill's. The hotel was too damned far!

Tom grabbed the back of Bill's jeans and strained their bodies closer, but still he was careful, so careful not to touch skin. Aside from the hungry onslaught of his mouth, anyhow.

"Fuck," Bill said against Tom's cheek as his brother kissed and nipped his way from Bill's mouth down his jaw. He bounced on Tom's lap and got a moan for his troubles, Tom's hands tightening hard enough on him to leave potential bruises. "Fuck, want you to fuck me."

Tom groaned into his ear, "Gonna fuck you," possibly in an unconscious echo of last night and the moment they had tumbled from the club already entangled in one another.

Bill groped at Tom's belt again, pawing through folds of voluminous t-shirt. The drive was taking entirely too long - where was Tom's hotel, anyhow; another ring of the city? "Wanna suck you," he crooned, swaying onto his knees on the floor of the car and draping himself over Tom's thighs. He looked up into his twin's face from where he knelt and Tom's eyes gazed back, eager.

Tom bit down on his lip ring and nodded.

The car stopped, and Bill could sense the shift of gears from drive to park through his shins. 

"We've arrived at the hotel," the driver called helpfully.

"Shit," Bill said, resting his chin on Tom's thigh. He was only a little bit disappointed. Of course, he wasn't quite sure how he was supposed to move with a hard-on this fierce.

"Next time, maybe," Tom said, squeezing Bill's shoulder consolingly then leaning forward to cup Bill's face in his hands. "C'mon, let's get upstairs now; I really, really wanna fuck you."

Bill smirked, lunged in to kiss Tom's sensual mouth, then scrambled for the curbside door while shrugging off his hoodie. He was going to have to tie it around his waist; his jeans were tight and black and obscenely revealing. Bill honestly couldn't care less who saw him like this on his own sake, but he'd been paying more attention to the band's image lately.

"Let's go,” he said, popping the car door open and resenting the harrowingly long stretch between the car and Tom's room.

Tom took hold of his hand as they stepped onto the curb.

"Lucky you, with your stupid over-sized baggy jeans," Bill grumbled, clinging to Tom's hand as he tugged the knot formed by the arms of the hoodie lower on his waist.

"Useful," Tom corrected, ducking near with intent to kiss.

"Bill? Bill Trumper?" an excited female voice squealed.

Bill's head turned and Tom's kiss landed in his hair.

"Oh gods, I thought it was you!" A leggy, slender brunette rushed up the sidewalk toward them. Her face was alight in a look of fervent adoration.

Bill contained a wince, apologetically squeezed Tom's fingers, and turned on the wattage to professional crowd-working levels. "Um. Hello!"

The brunette was hot, the hindbrain portion of Bill noted, in a way that Bill would have probably acted on before all his desire and longing found one single intense focus. Maybe he'd think other people were hot again, some day, but all of a sudden the only pair of pants Bill wanted to get into were Tom's stupid baggy jeans. And _right fucking now_ wouldn't be soon enough to suit him.

"I almost didn't recognize you with your hair down!" the girl chattered, crowding close within touching range until Tom's hand tightened on Bill's and his twin edged closer to him. She gave Bill a flirty smile. "If I hadn't seen it the next day I wouldn't have known you."

Bill, who had been about to ask the girl whether he was supposed to know her, snapped his mouth shut. This was one of his one-night stands. Oh, crap timing. There were two ways to deal with this; bad and worse.

"I didn't get your number--" she began, and Bill cut that one off at the pass.

"I'm sorry, did you want an autograph? I don't have a pen," Bill said, giving her his most brilliant smile.

She faltered and gaped, then tried to smile again but it was wounded. "You don't remember me."

Now Bill turned on the sympathy as well as the charm. "I'm sorry, but no. You are gorgeous, though. It's nothing personal."

Color flooded into her cheeks and she looked past Bill for the first time, noticing Tom. "Who's this?" she asked, a note of jealousy creeping into her voice.

Bill suppressed a sigh. This was why he'd stopped sleeping with people more than once. Most humans seemed to think sex on a repeated basis constituted some kind of claim, even if both parties hadn't agreed to that or even discussed it.

"The guy who's fucking him now," Tom snapped at the girl, tugging Bill's hand to indicate he was more than ready to move on. Tom muttered under his breath, "And from now on."

Bill bounced onto the balls of his feet, unable to hide his sheer joy. "Tomi," he purred, trying to fit all his pleasure into the affectionate nickname. The one person who had right to be possessive of him had spoken.

The girl's eyes went wide. "You, no way!" she exclaimed. "But, Bill, I heard you didn't sleep with anyone more than one night!"

"Then why were you trying to get his number?" Tom asked, pulling on Bill's hand and starting for the front of the hotel.

The girl gaped and Bill gave her an apologetic grimace as Tom towed him for the doors.

Tom was ominously silent all through the lobby, though he didn't loosen his grip on Bill's hand. He crowded Bill into the elevator and swung around to pin him against the back wall, eyes smoldering, but they weren't alone. A few other people joined them and Bill tugged on Tom's shirt as his brother loomed over him.

"She didn't mean anything," Bill spoke up hastily as Tom trapped him in the corner of the elevator, still not saying anything.

"Of course she didn't," Tom said affably. He leaned in to flick his tongue over Bill's pulse. "But you were very polite to her."

"Well, she's a fan," Bill said, defensive. "Or she was, gods, she might be too pissed over that snub now."

Tom's eyes flashed. "So me making it clear that you're mine is a snub, now?"

Bill's temper flared to match. "You're being an asshole with me when it's her you want to rip to pieces," he hissed. "You already know the only thing that matters from now on is between me and you."

Tom leaned into the elevator wall until it creaked. He nodded slowly, his dark eyes never leaving Bill's. "So long as it's clear," he said.

Bill's brows rose. He was bottoming for Tom, but he wasn't his bitch. "There's no need to be so high-handed. Do you _want_ to get laid when we get to that hotel room?"

Tom's expression shifted instantly to horror. "You'd withhold sex?" he exclaimed in shock.

Bill grinned and stretched his neck forward, capturing Tom's top lip in a brief nip. "Well, no, probably not," he admitted, sliding his arms around his twin's waist and seeking bare skin instinctively. Tom's overlarge shirt foiled him again. "I don't think my resolve would hold up."

"Good," Tom mumbled, and pressed his mouth against Bill's.

It might have been meant to be a brief brush of the lips, but once Tom's mouth was against his, Bill reacted. He arched against Tom, bit his lip, sent his tongue out in teasing swipes and opened to him when Tom sent his own tongue seeking entry.

"Oh, gods," someone on the elevator muttered, sounding mortified and appalled all at once.

"Hey, you didn't have to get on the elevator with us," Tom snapped.

Bill tugged on a handful of his twin's shirt. "Did you even press the button for our floor?"

"Shit." Tom pushed up from the elevator wall, making a face as he turned.

A chime sounded as the elevator pulled to a halt. Tom punched the button for the fourth floor as everyone else crowded to disembark.

Bill was willing to bet that at least one of them wasn't quartered on that floor, but the outcome suited him. "Get back here," he grated, snagging the back of Tom's shirt and hauling on it.

Tom turned for him with a predatory set to his features and sealed their mouths together, pressing Bill to the back wall until the metal creaked.

Bill hopped up against Tom, knowing his twin would catch him as he wrapped his legs around Tom's waist. Tom grabbed the seat of Bill's jeans and hauled their bodies even closer, kissing Bill's open mouth, tongue flicking at his lips.

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," Bill demanded in between kisses, one arm hooked around his brother's neck, the other stroking at his dreadlocks. The drawn-out tease of hot kisses wasn't enough. Bill needed bare skin against his and he wanted it now.

"Here?" Tom gasped, before latching onto Bill's bottom lip.

Bill thought about it, eyeing the emergency stop over Tom's shoulder. "Augh, no lube," he recalled when Tom released his lip and trailed sloppy kisses in a chain leading toward his neck. They were going to have to start keeping something on them when they went out. Spit was _not_ an adequate substitute.

"All right," Tom panted, and nuzzled into Bill's neck. "Soon."

"Not fucking soon enough!" Bill disagreed, lashing out at the elevator wall. Sheet metal boomed and he left a fist-shaped dent.

Tom jerked, tightening his grip on Bill's ass and biting down at the join of shoulder and neck, cussing against his skin. "Damn it, Bill, I'd like to actually get to our floor."

The elevator chime went off and Tom was maneuvering them for the door. "Go, go," Bill chanted, bouncing in Tom's arms and basically humping his brother's groin as Tom strode up the hallway. As they went, Tom raised his head from Bill's neck and pressed distracted kisses over whatever part of Bill's face he could reach. They reached a door and Tom shifted Bill onto one arm, freeing up a hand to dig in one pocket and retrieve a hotel ident disc. He passed it over the panel beside the door and the door clicked open. Bill unwrapped his legs from Tom's waist and hopped down, bouncing on his toes beside him as Tom shoved the door inward.

"Oh, my god," Bill moaned, horny beyond belief as he stumbled through the door and pulled his hoodie from around his waist, tossing it negligently to the side.

The door clicked shut and Tom was on him. They toppled and Tom had Bill trapped against the wall of the narrow hallway that led into the hotel suite, his hands stroking Bill's chest and sides, his mouth seeking Bill's pulse point again.

"Get this off," Tom growled, giving Bill's shirt a jerk, and it ripped in his hand like tissue paper.

Bill kneed Tom's waist in protest. "I liked that shirt, ass," he said.

"I like it _off_ of you," Tom replied, running the pads of his fingertips up over Bill's stomach and rubbing them over Bill's nipples.

Bill didn't think he'd ever actually felt his nipples tighten before, but he sure as hell felt it right then. He leaned for his brother's mouth and was stunned when Tom's head rocked back, denying him.

"Jeans too," Tom demanded.

"Take your shirt off," Bill countered, but his hand was already descending to his belt buckle, a big silver-plated square that read 'Full Service.' He didn't have any bargaining chips; he was going to strip for Tom anyhow. Bill turned until he was facing the plain white wall and pulled his belt free. He unbuttoned and braced himself against the wall with one hand as he began to unzip his jeans, glancing over his shoulder to gauge his effect on Tom.

Tom was watching him open-mouthed, his huge shirt gathered over his shoulders but not yet pulled over his head. "Hells," he croaked, and cleared his throat. "Hells, Bill, you're the fuckin' sexiest thing I've ever seen." He swept his cap off and tore his shirt over his shoulders and head.

Bill grinned with sheer delight. He liked hearing that, and it was best coming from Tom. He began to ease his jeans down over his hips. Suddenly Tom was there, pressing his bare chest against the length of Bill's naked back. They both shuddered; Bill moaned from the sheer tactile pleasure. Tom's nipples were hard against Bill's shoulder blades.

"Off," Tom husked in his ear, and then there were hands on Bill's jeans besides his own, tugging at the denim.

Hastily Bill complied, not wanting a repeat of the t-shirt incident. He sure as hells didn't want to wear Tom's jeans out of here; he would look so tacky.

Together they ran Bill's jeans off until they puddled around his ankles. Boyshorts went, too, in the same movement. Tom's hands were on him at once, stroking over the bare angles of Bill's hips, the minimalistic curves of his ass. Tom parted the cheeks of Bill's ass, exposing everything. Tom dragged a thumb up the side of the flesh there and Bill moaned louder, parting his legs a little in encouragement. He'd dive for the bed if he could, but he was hobbled by the jeans that were still slung around his ankles.

“Please, please,” Bill said, tipping his head to the side to try and get a good look at Tom's face, to fathom his intent. He'd beg shamelessly for Tom if it meant he got what he wanted that crucial bit sooner. He'd do things for Tom he had never, would never do for anyone else.

Tom leaned against him, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, then knelt behind him.

“Ohh,” Bill exhaled happily as Tom chained kisses down his spine, open-mouthed and dabbling his tongue against Bill's skin. When Tom's knees hit the floor, his tongue trailed down over Bill's tailbone and kept going further down. “I like that, _ah,_ Tomi, that's so, so good...” He broke off, excited whimpers his only articulation as Tom's tongue dipped into the crease and lavished attention between the parted cheeks of his ass.

Bill scrabbled against the wall for a handhold to anchor him but there was none. He keened under the sensations Tom was provoking from him with his tongue. It was too much, it was perfect; it wasn't everything he needed, but so close, so good. “Tomi!” His twin's tongue was _in_ him, licking him out and forming a hard point and pressing into his entrance. “Tomi, Tomi...” he chanted, pushing back fruitlessly, making Tom swear and grab at his hips to keep him in place.

“That's so good,” Bill moaned again, trying to be good and not thrash around, but his bodily instincts were urging him to writhe. “Tomi, I want more, though.”

Tom nuzzled into him, inhaling and licking and rubbing one of Bill's buttocks in his calloused hand. He gave one last long wet swipe up Bill's crease, then set his teeth into Bill's ass-cheek until Bill gasped.

“Love bites, Tomi?” Bill inquired, tipping his head to the side for a kiss when Tom rose to his feet again, one hand still rubbing over Bill's cleft, the other stroking the black star tattoo on his hip.

“Marking one of my new favorite places,” Tom admitted, nudging Bill's mouth then sharing his tongue between them.

Bill wrinkled his nose a little at the taste. It wasn't bad, but it was weird and different, definitely distinct from the taste of his release on a lover's mouth. He lapped at Tom's mouth anyhow; he wanted to share everything, and the closeness of Tom kissing him was the best.

“Want you,” Tom breathed against his mouth, stroking over Bill's hip, taking hold of his cock and giving him a few slow pulls. The roughness of denim pressed and chafed against Bill's bare ass.

“Have me,” Bill invited. He spread his legs a little more, pressing back against Tom's jeans, somewhat irked Tom was still _wearing_ them. “Here, the bed, the bathroom counter, just don't make me wait for it.”

Tom kissed his neck, appearing to make up his mind with that. “Get on the bed,” he said. “Promised to fuck you through the mattress, remember? I'll get something from the bathroom to use for lube.”

Bill grinned and bent over right from where he stood, slow and sinuous, to unlace his boots. He knew that move would put him on display like nothing else.

There was a strangled noise from behind him. Feverish-hot hands hovered over the skin of Bill's ass, then clenched into fists, then there was a cool displacement of air behind him as Tom took himself elsewhere fast.

Bill chuckled softly. He set about disentangling himself from boots and the remaining clothing in earnest.

“Gonna get laid,” he sang softly to himself, kicking his boots and jeans and boyshorts off to the side near the pitiful ruined heap of his t-shirt. It had died an honorable death for the cause of getting Bill naked faster, and now he'd have to find a new one that he liked as much, so Tom had done him two favors there.

Bill hurried past the open bathroom door, not risking a glance for fear of Tom's sexy diverting him from his intended course, and he dove for the queen-sized bed, bouncing experimentally. It wasn't as large or sturdy as Bill's custom-made frame and box springs at home, but it would do the job. He flopped onto his belly, and something within the bed creaked a warning.

“Hmm,” Bill murmured consideringly, then he rolled onto his back and sprawled into a more comfortable pose, drawing one knee up and smoothing a hand over his own hip where Tom's fingers had gripped him before. “Tomi, if you don't hurry I'm going to get started without you!” He wrapped a hand around his shaft and sent his other hand questing back behind himself, crooking his leg up a little higher to give himself access. Tom's spit had already dried on his entrance so Bill brought his fingers back to his mouth and licked them, then pushed one finger in.

“Huh?” Tom grunted, coming around from the corner of the bathroom naked, a towel slung around his neck, bottle of lotion in one hand. “What do you mean, get started—ohhh.” He stood at the foot of the bed for a moment and watched Bill finger himself. When he dropped the lotion on his foot, he didn't even flinch.

“Tomi,” Bill said, lifting his head and fixing his twin with a look he hoped was both sultry and imperative. He crooked his finger, searching inward. Bill threw his head back with a gasp as he almost found his spot. “Rather this was you...”

Tom's weight hit the bed and Bill gasped, eyes flying open. He pulled his fingers out hastily. That was a good thing, as Tom's weight bowled him over and Bill found himself fielding an armful of naked twin. Tom pressed kisses onto him, joining them ferociously at the mouth and stroking Bill's skin wherever he could reach, which was a great deal of skin.

“You taste so good, gods, Bill,” Tom panted, letting go his mouth to pursue the taste of him down his neck, sucking on Bill's collarbone. “What do you want? I'll do anything.”

Bill's eyes fluttered and he nuzzled across Tom's dreads, his belly tight with pleasure. It was his own promise of the night before, delivered back to him. Bill wanted a lot, but there was only one thing that he really needed right now. They'd have time for the rest. He almost laughed against Tom's shaggy-silken locks. If it was one thing the two of them had, it was plenty of time.

“I want you in me,” Bill said simply, wrapping his arms around Tom and rubbing at his back, playing the fingers of one hand over Tom's spine.

Tom lifted his head and his eyes glittered. “Now,” he agreed.

Bill thrust his hips up against his brother, his twin, and raked his nails deliberately down Tom's back, “Don't take too long,” he warned. “I want it now, I don't care how rough.”

Tom nodded, his dreadlocks tickling over Bill's neck, and he moved over Bill, one hand between them aligning their cocks together. He bit down on his lip and gave Bill another smoky look. He untangled himself with an effort, because Bill clung to him with lips and hands and legs.

Ducking over the side of the bed, Tom returned triumphant with the bottle of lotion. He'd ditched the towel at some point. He knelt between Bill's legs and kissed one knee as Bill bent it, bringing it into range. Tom smirked up at Bill, leaning in as though to kiss his erection, but his lips only grazed the tip before he was sitting back on his haunches.

“Ah, fuck, _tease,_ ” Bill ground out, pushing his hips up and reaching for the handy grip of Tom's dreadlocks.

“Not at all,” Tom countered, kissing Bill's knee again and probing at his hole with slick fingers.

Bill loosed a breathy sigh as Tom sank two fingers into him with no further delay. It was good and Tom dragged them over his spot at once, making Bill arch back against the bed and cry out. Even that consumed by pleasure, Bill tossed his head restlessly, grasping at his own thighs and hauling them wide when he couldn't get a grip on Tom to urge him on.

Tom groaned and rested his head against Bill's shin. “You're going to ruin me,” he accused.

“You're going to fuck me,” Bill said confidently, rolling his hips and pushing his cock up, exposing his ass and reaching down to spread himself open with one hand. “Now, Tomi, now...don't keep me waiting.”

Tom was nodding again, sending rivulets of hair in a sensual flip over Bill's stomach and thighs. His fingers slithered out of Bill's body and left him cold, but not for long.

Bill struggled up onto his elbows to watch Tom coating his cock with lotion. “Yes, yes, hurry,” he moaned.

Tom crawled over Bill's body, hiking his legs up along the way until Bill's knees were ratcheted up over Tom's shoulders. He braced himself over Bill, face to face. Bill looked up into Tom's eyes, filled to the brim with excitement and aching to be filled with more than that. Tom's hand dragged between them, thumbing the head of his cock against Bill's hole.

It was almost too much to watch. Bill struggled to keep his eyes open as Tom breached him. It was so intense, so hot that Bill could almost come just from watching. Tom was atop him, lacing hands with Bill's against Bill's shoulders, their eyes locked as Tom's cock slid into him in one long claiming thrust. The intimacy that chained them together was stronger than anything, and this physical expression was only one aspect of their bond. Bill didn't need any words for it. It _was._

Bill's mouth worked as Tom pulled out and sank into him again, base to tip. Sounds tumbled from his mouth, inchoate and soft at first, building to a frenzied moan as Tom stroked inside of him, the heavy drag of his erection riding over Bill's spot with regularity, if not every time. The bed was creaking under them with every thrust and they hadn't even built up any real speed or urgency yet.

“Keep...keep doing that...” Bill managed, parting his lips as Tom lunged over him to plant a kiss on his mouth, wallowing deep. Bill cried out as though he'd been split open; it bordered pain and sent a bolt of pleasure up his spine and it was so, so good. He gripped Tom's hands punishingly tight and clenched his internal muscles around his twin.

Tom cried out atop him, his strokes slowing.

“Tom, Tom,” Bill moaned, unable to produce any accolade or urging more focused than his brother's name.

“So tight,” Tom gritted, and pushed in again, stretching to lay another kiss on Bill.

Bill opened his mouth, trying to tangle his tongue with Tom's, but Tom was already receding just out of reach, panting hotly over whatever part of Bill was nearest. Bill groaned; he rolled his hips, he squeezed his thighs, and he clamped down on Tom's cock. He urged his twin to fuck him with everything he had; enough of the gentle prelude.

“Fuck, Bill,” Tom swore, stilling for a moment and squeezing Bill's hands before disentangling himself, bracing his hands to either side of Bill's head.

Bill bit his lip and looked up at Tom; he knew his eyes were shining, conveying every iota of happiness and sexual well-being that filled him up as much Tom's cock. “Harder,” he whispered.

Tom was tonguing at his lip-ring, his eyes heavy-lidded and reflecting back so much love and arousal that Bill whimpered and tried to strain him closer with his legs. Tom exhaled and dropped his head to Bill's shoulder, nodding again, his hair swaying over Bill's face and shoulders, teasing deliciously at his skin. Tom pulled partway out against Bill's protest and repositioned him, jacking Bill's legs against his chest, riding him up onto Tom's thighs. Tom seized Bill's hips for leverage and gazed at him for one second, their eyes connected. Then he drove into Bill and they both shouted.

The bed juddered beneath them as Tom slammed into Bill. He did it again and again, the headboard banging against the wall with each thrust, sending a shower of paint flakes tumbling down every time.

"Yes... yes, ahh, Tomi, you're the best," Bill encouraged his twin, scrabbling for a hold on his brother's muscular shoulders. Tom was swaying in and out of range as he screwed into Bill, and all Bill could do was hang on and leave scratch marks.

"Bill," Tom managed, panting harder as he quickened the pace, really starting to bang their bodies together.

Bill stretched, reaching above him, beginning to pant too as Tom unleashed restraint and really gave it to him. He reached for the headboard for leverage to push back into Tom's hard ceaseless thrusts, and took hold of two wooden slats. His hands closed around them, Tom pounded into him, Bill's hands tightened and he began to shove himself back...the slats splintered like toothpicks in his hands.

"Damn it," Bill moaned, grabbing at the next slats over. When he braced himself for Tom's return thrust again, those snapped in his hands too. "Fuck!" He tried a third pair, the ones directly above his head, with the same result.

Tom's head dipped as he hunched over Bill, wallowing into him. His mouth was open and his eyes were hazed over, but they brightened when he locked gazes with Bill again. He gave Bill a few more particularly hard, deep thrusts and a sharp cracking sound punctuated the last.

Bill's head lolled and he located the source of the noise; the headboard had snapped in half and it was sagging in toward the center. "Keep going," he panted, grabbing at handfuls of sheet and trying to haul his lower body closer to Tom.

Tom's fingers flexed on Bill's hips and he did keep going, pumping into him slow at first then picking up speed again. "Fuck," he groaned, pounding into Bill. He crowded in close with his thighs pressed up under Bill's ass and held himself inside Bill for a few deep pulsing thrusts. Tom began to move fast again, seizing Bill's waist and battering into him in a sudden flurry of quick stabbing strokes.

A low, silken shearing sound was the first indication of trouble. Bill was moaning, grabbing at handfuls of sheet that unraveled like tissue under his hands and he was too into it to realize until he began sliding down. Tom tried to keep him propped up, sliding his hands under Bill's thighs and holding him up against the bed. It was too late – with a halfhearted shriek of stressed metal and the whiplash report of snapping wood, the bed collapsed down the center.

Tom dug his heels in and labored to hold Bill up against the top half of the caving bed as he fucked into him with slower, but no less insistent strokes. “Damn it,” he groaned, as they began to slide toward the middle and his cock popped out of Bill. “C'mon, Bill, gotta turn you over.”

“No, wanna see you,” Bill protested, but he was so pliant and happy that his body moved willingly when Tom flipped him onto his belly against the mattress.

“Later,” Tom panted, “we'll do it again later, face to face again.” He nudged up against Bill's backside, one hand gripping Bill's waist, the other positioning his cock at Bill's hole, and plowed into him from behind with Bill braced against the top half of the broken mattress. His chin pressed against Bill's shoulder and Bill turned his head, seeking a kiss.

Their tongues met and swiped together in slow, thorough strokes. It was a leisurely counterpoint to Tom's quick, hard thrusts. Their bodies slapped together now, the sound mingling together with the silken noise of wet kisses interspersed with harsh panting. Tom wrapped an arm around Bill's waist and drove into him faster, his other hand reaching around to pull Bill to the same wonderful rhythm.

“Ahh, Tomi!” Bill cried out when Tom released his mouth. The mattress was shredding under his desperately clawing hands. “Ahh, keep...doing...that...”

Tom bit down on his shoulder and muttered, “Not gonna stop, not ever gonna stop.” He sped up and mouthed over Bill's pulse point.

Bill surged toward the wall with each of Tom's thrusts and frowned. The wall was getting closer, a lot closer. He blinked even as he arched back into the delicious penetration of Tom's cock. He didn't want to stop, but... “Tomi, I think we're fucking the headboard into the wall.”

Tom slowed his pace, flattening both hands over Bill's belly. His cheek pressed against Bill's as he looked over Bill's shoulder again. Dreads tickled Bill's shoulders and chest. “Huh. I think you're right.”

“Oh, what now?” Bill groused, wiggling in his current position and watching with fascination as plaster and paint flakes sifted from the wall where the broken headboard dug into it. Tom grunted and pressed into him a few more times, pulsing inside of him and licking along the tendons of Bill's neck.

“We turn around,” Tom rasped, “and I drape you across the other half of the bed. Hells, this is flimsy.”

“Built for humans,” Bill said, dismissive. He gasped as Tom seized him by the hips and, instead of withdrawing again, manhandled Bill into turning with him while he was still fully buried. “Oh, my god.” It was intense and Tom felt so huge inside of him as they walked forward a few steps.

Tom pushed him onto the other half of the bed with his cock, basically, and Bill gripped the foot of the split mattress in both hands as he leaned against it. Broken box springs twanged around their ankles.

“Go,” Bill gasped, but Tom was already fucking into him again, bringing him back to that bright glorious place he'd been before the bedroom wall began closing in before his eyes. He clamped down onto Tom's cock with brutal squeezes now every time Tom began to withdraw.

“Bill,” Tom moaned, and went faster.

“Come on, come on, make me come,” Bill urged, ripping into the mattress by accident and holding onto the coils inside for traction. “Almost there, come on, Tomi, come with me!” Tom's hand found Bill's cock again, stroking along him just right with those beautiful calloused fingers.

Bill came with a whimper, biting his lip as Tom moved his thumb over the head of his cock in slow teasing sweeps. He tensed and reached back for Tom, trying to hook a hand around his head, his neck, anything, and snagged a handful of dreadlocks. Tom rubbed his mouth against Bill's, panting, and Bill reached back with both hands for Tom's hips, wanting the heavy press of his body as he gripped Tom's cock and spilled his own release all over the torn sheets.

“So perfect,” Tom mumbled, dropping his chin onto Bill's shoulder. His hips made one last convulsive roll. “Bill!”

Bill rested his head against the upended foot of the mattress, panting and smug as Tom's orgasm bloomed hot inside him. Tom held himself against Bill's ass, pushing into him with quick little jerks as he filled him with his come. His hands were hard on Bill's hips again to keep him in place, though Bill didn't have any plans to move any time soon.

They rested against the broken bottom half of the mattress for a while, Tom's weight pressing Bill down as he held him. Bill craned his head, seeking a kiss, and Tom's lips fumbled across his cheekbone. Tom licked sweat off Bill's skin and stuck his tongue into Bill's mouth and they kissed, chasing flavors between their joined mouths for unhurried moments.

What was left of the bed creaked ominously beneath them.

“Shit,” Tom swore, and pulled Bill upright with him as he stood. They both shivered; they were still connected.

It excited Bill. Part of him wanted to urge Tom to put him on his hands and knees in the ruin at the center of the bed and see how long it would take them both to get hard, then get off again. He didn't think it would take much.

Tom was already pulling out, though, and he snaked an arm around Bill's shoulders and guided him out of the wreckage of the hotel bed.

With an anticlimactic rustle, the bottom half of the mattress collapsed and sank into the broken frame.

“Wow,” Tom said, hugging Bill to his side. “I really thought it would take more to break it. I mean, I probably could have fucked you harder if I'd tried.”

“My bed is much sturdier, we'll have more fun with that,” Bill said, then his eyes widened. “Tomi! You mean you were holding back?”

Tom grinned and nosed at his ear, his cheekbone, kissed the corner of Bill's mouth. “I don't think you heard it, but someone was hammering on the wall yelling for us to shut up,” he said, and gave Bill an open-mouthed kiss when Bill turned into him, fitting his hands over the curve where Tom's waist ended and his ass began. “So I figured it might be a bad idea to, you know, _actually_ fuck you into the next room.”

Bill licked Tom's lips. “Glad I didn't hear it, then,” he said, ducking his head against Tom's shoulder and savoring the feel of Tom's bare skin all against his front. “I probably would have torn a bedpost off and tried to go stake him with it.”

“Not while we were together, you wouldn't have,” Tom said, growling the words. He tugged on a strand of Bill's hair and pulled him up into another kiss.

They kissed like that, standing beside the wreckage of the bed, for several minutes. Tom grabbed at Bill's ass, making Bill squeal into his mouth and crowd closer. Bill retaliated by pulling Tom's dreads and forcing his head to one side, where he mapped out another hickey over the join of his neck and shoulder.

“So what next?” Bill asked, when he'd raised his head from Tom's neck and their eyes met again.

Tom nuzzled up Bill's throat and rubbed one hand suggestively up the crease of Bill's ass. “Well, there's still a dresser, and an armchair, and a perfectly good bathroom counter... I wouldn't trust you on that rickety desk over there.”

Bill smacked at his brother's chest. “Not what I meant, pervert,” he exclaimed, but he was grinning. 

Tom grinned back, his eyes crinkling up. “You have to be more specific, you know. We're in the middle of a hotel room and we just broke a bed together; you ask me 'what next,' and of course I'm gonna think you mean sex,” he said seriously, leaning in to drop a kiss beside Bill's mouth.

“That's darling,” Bill purred, “and I _will_ take you up on it, but I meant in general. Now that you've found me, what do we do? I figured we should take advantage of the few minutes our minds aren't sex-hazed to, you know, plan.”

“You're giving me a lot of credit,” Tom said, dropping his head against Bill's shoulder and inhaling deeply. “I know we came five minutes ago or less but already all I can think about is having you again.”

“I'm serious,” Bill insisted, stopping his hand from making languid circles on one of Tom's pectorals and pinching his nipple instead. Though if he was honest with himself he could admit he was still contemplating the choice of furniture that Tom had offered up earlier, and which position they should try.

“So am I.” Tom lifted his head and grinned, raising his brows when Bill did his best to scowl. “Okay, okay. Don't pout, I haven't built up an immunity yet. I didn't really plan past finding you – I came to find my twin brother, and bring you back to House Kaulitz with me.”

Bill wrinkled his nose "Like I'd go live with the father who abandoned me." The only reason he'd be changing his last name was because it was Tom's name too.

Tom's arms tightened around him, hugging Bill by the waist. "You'd live with _me,_ " Tom countered. "I'm thinking of killing Jorg anyhow." 

Bill's eyes lit up. "Tomi, you say the sweetest things." 

"How can I let him live? He took the most important thing from me," Tom said softly, pulling Bill even closer and nudging their noses together.

"Yeah, but...you've got me back now," Bill responded, stroking his fingers into the thick twists of hair at Tom's nape. He angled his head just so, to press a kiss to Tom's upper lip.

“It's still unforgivable,” Tom said darkly. “He thought it was a catastrophic idea to keep us together? Fuck him; the reunited Sparda twin spree will look like nothing when we're through with him.”

Bill nodded a bit; he even remembered hearing about last year's news of the half-Nephilim Sparda twins on the West coast, but he was more concerned now with continuing the kiss he'd started earlier. With a little hungry noise, he kissed Tom again, moving from upper lip to lower, sucking Tom's lip ring into his mouth.

“Nng...Bill,” Tom said against his mouth, but if it was a protest it wasn't convincing enough to keep Bill from tonguing at his prize.

“Wanna suck you,” Bill mumbled against his twin's mouth, and Tom's lips curved beneath his.

“I guess we have a use for that armchair, after all,” Tom mumbled back.

Bill stretched luxuriantly against his brother's body, wrapping his arms around Tom's neck and trusting his twin to keep them both upright as he leaned heavily against him. “We should keep your hotel room until we wreck everything in it,” he said with a snicker. “Being mated means a lot of non-stop fucking at first, right? At least here they'll bring us food when we need it.”

Tom's snicker answered his. “If we don't wreck the place so bad they try to kick us out, first.”

“Ooh, let's see how long that takes!”

***

The day was crisp and clear, the sun washing over the green of the campus fields and providing warmth without overwhelming heat. It was much like a day from weeks back, when Tom Kaulitz had lounged against the very same stone building and fixed his thousand-yard stare on the painfully beautiful young man with his very same eyes, nose, mouth, his everything. Today, Tom pushed up from his sentry position at the corner when the end of class bell sounded off within all of the nearby buildings, and he moved for the one directly opposite. He cut across the green sward that was so neatly bracketed by criss-crossing plascrete paths.

Tom waited beside the steps that led downward from the auditorium building with its white colonnades. He tucked his hands into his huge pockets and waited, cap tilted down, one eye tilted up. Sometimes it took longer than others, but he was patient.

“Tomi!” an ecstatic voice crowed from the top of the stairs.

Tom looked up just in time to see a figure launching itself from the top of the block of concrete that framed the stairs. He opened his arms in reaction and fielded an armful of twin brother. Weight that might have caused someone else to grunt and struggle to keep their balance was cradled in Tom's arms with ease and now he was face to face with his most important person again; his favorite part of the afternoon.

“I missed you,” Bill said seriously, tweaking Tom's cap with one hand and pushing it aside, getting it out of his way as he leaned in for a kiss.

“Always miss you,” Tom replied, equally serious, and closed his eyes as he kissed Bill back, soft and slow with their tongues barely touching.

“Oh, fuck off,” someone jeered from the stairs.

“Get a goddamned room,” someone else griped.

“Break it up, break it up,” a third voice spoke, and Tom broke off his kiss to see Andreas shooing away the complainants. “You're all just jealous.”

Tom nodded briefly to the young blond. He'd been skeptical about Andreas at first, but his trust in Bill had proved true. Andreas was not only harmless, but a good friend – this was a human concept Tom was still learning.

“Yeah, I'm jealous Bill never slept with _me_ before he went and got himself all committed,” yet another person spoke up from the anonymous press of the crowd.

Tom's ears pricked; that voice might be worth tracking later... Bill's hand smacking down on his shoulder brought the greater share of his attention back where it belonged, with his twin.

“Good hunting today?” Bill inquired, giving the tiny wriggle that let Tom know it was time to set his brother on his own two feet now, which he did promptly. Bill continued to lean against him, hooking their arms together and drawing him into step with him as they moved onto one of the campus walkways.

“Fair,” Tom said modestly, digging his hands back into his pockets again. It was partly to prevent himself from touching Bill, which still had fairly explosive results. Tom didn't give a flying fuck for human custom, but Bill was still moderately hung up on doing things the human way; or at least, not getting caught. They'd had a quickie in more than one of the bathrooms in buildings all across campus. It was better than, say, doing it on the steps of the very public buildings. Tom was happy to compromise when it was Bill doing the asking.

Tom continued, “A few more good bounties and I'll have that goddamned hotel bill paid off.” Credit from House Kaulitz wasn't exactly good in the human world, so Tom had been earning money by taking bounties posted with Orion once he'd squared himself with legitimate ID.

The hotel where he and Bill had spent their first week of mostly non-stop rutting had actually had the _gall_ to charge Tom for all of the damages above the deposit Tom had paid when checking in. Only Bill's explanation that this was a customary practice with humans had prevented Tom from going with his first instinct – mayhem.

To be fair, Bill had said, they really _had_ perpetrated all of that damage, so it was only right they pay for it. Bill had gone down the charges line by line, so he'd know. Tom had been kind of proud of the total figure, when explained that way.

They'd even managed to wreck the window casement pretty good. And the one maid who'd walked in on them the second day before Bill found the “Do Not Disturb” sign had probably quit on the spot.

“It was a very large list of charges,” Bill said happily, stroking along the inner curve of Tom's arm and steering him toward the north end of campus, where they caught the bus. Thanks to the hotel bill, Tom still hadn't gotten around to buying himself a car. “I didn't think we could do that much damage – I should've had more faith in us.”

“The best thing about that hotel was the room service,” Tom said, reminiscent. All they'd had to do was pick up the room phone – the one thing they'd been scrupulous about leaving intact – and someone brought food up to their room at any hour of the day or night. They'd put off their fair share of bellhops that way, too, as neither Bill nor Tom had any particular issue with answering the door naked. Sometimes together.

Now that they were back in Bill's apartment – their apartment, really – it was takeout or delivery. They hadn't gotten to the point where they were stable enough in public together to last through the course of an entire meal.

They'd _tried_ \-- then Andreas had begged them to stay home if sex was a bigger priority over dinner and company. Of course, he'd been the one who'd had to try and explain the moans and banging noises from the bathroom to the waitstaff and owner. Tom thought he remembered Andreas saying he'd gone with "newlyweds" as an explanation.

In the end, Tom had concluded that Bill's tongue was really to blame. He couldn't sit near his twin and watch Bill flash that tempting metal tongue stud without it giving him a jolt as to other, more vital applications.

Strangely enough, Bill had blamed _Tom's_ tongue. More specifically, the way he played with his lip ring when he was looking even remotely in Bill's direction.

“Room service was a nice perk,” Bill agreed. “It's too bad they asked us to check out; I could have done with another week of room service. Hey, I wonder if we could get Andi to run meals for us!”

“Not a chance,” the blond young man replied, appearing beside Tom and waving his hand and the art portfolio he gripped in a quick 'no' gesture. “You couldn't pay me to get that close to your, uh, twin time. You'll note I wait for you _outside_ your apartment building on the days we go to campus together.”

“And I appreciate that, Andi,” Bill said solemnly, while Tom snickered because he knew it was only to the blond's benefit. Neither Tom nor Bill cared if Andreas were to walk in on them mid-coitus. “You coming with us?”

“What is it tonight?” Andreas asked.

“Jam session,” Tom replied. “We're running through all of the songs to see how we click. And Bill wrote a few new ones for us.”

“Tomi did the music, though, and finished the arrangement,” Bill was quick to add, squeezing Tom's arm. “He's such a good guitarist, way better than Oren.”

“Oh, yeah, Oren,” Andreas said, looking over curiously at them. “Did he...have a nervous breakdown, or did you...?” He trailed off, leaving that open-ended with rather dire implications.

“I would have thought so,” Tom said, shrugging. “But Bill just told him that he didn't like him.”

Bill huffed. “Am I really that scary?” he inquired, eyes wide.

Tom knew this look now – Bill was playing at innocence.

“All I did was get in his face, flick his nose with one of my nails, and tell him I never liked him,” Bill continued. “Apparently that was all it took?”

Andreas said fervently, “Yeah, that would be enough.” He was nodding vigorously. When the twins looked at him, he said defensively, “What? You scare the shit out of people. Not me, but, you know, people. And I can see why, even if I don't feel the same way.”

Bill flicked one dismissive hand. “Anyhow, the wuss is out of our band. I heard he even dropped out of school and he's moving to the Midwest, or something.”

Andreas laughed but there was an edge to it. “You should've just told him to quit; that would have been nicer.”

Bill frowned. “I never did like him,” he admitted. “Once I found out Tomi could play guitar, I wanted to get Oren off the band as fast as possible. It worked, okay? And Tom is really meshing well with our sound; we're way hotter than before.”

“You're hotter,” Tom mumbled, leaning over to kiss his brother.

Bill hummed happily as he accepted Tom's kiss on his cheek. “We're ready to play a venue this weekend,” he said, then frowned over at Tom. “If only I could get Tom out of his stupid baggy clothes.”

“And I already told you, there's only one way you get me out of these clothes,” Tom replied, raising his brows. He had his reasons for dressing in his over-sized shirts and big low-belted jeans, and even his twin's distaste for them wasn't going to change ingrained habits.

Bill sighed. “I'm not fucking you onstage,” he replied flatly.

“More's the pity; I think that would be a hell of a way to open a gig,” Tom replied, with regret that was only partly for show.

“Or close it down real fast,” Andreas interjected. “Uh, have you guys thought about...well, how are you going to get through a whole gig with the two of you, well, so _attached_ still?”

Tom snorted. 'Attached.' He was still endlessly amused by all of the human euphemisms.

“We're going to do it right before the show,” Bill said, taking the question seriously. “Probably oral. Then after the show we'll do it again right away, full penetration, and that way if there's an encore we'll get it out of our systems long enough to do a few more songs.”

“Oh gods,” Andreas said, palming his forehead. “Shoot me for asking. You know, I didn't need that kind of detail, thanks.”

“You asked,” Bill reminded him. “Hey, if you're coming to our session, can you give us a ride?”

“Only if you two don't start going at it in the backseat,” Andreas said, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk.

Tom sensed eyes on him and exchanged a glance with Bill. He could already tell from the color in Bill's cheeks that they weren't going to be able to hold out much longer. “No promises,” Tom said firmly.

“Augh...okay, then you can bus it,” Andreas said, holding both hands up defensively.

“What if we tried to wait until you weren't in the car?” Bill offered helpfully.

“No way! It's _my_ car!”

They resumed their walk for the north side of campus, laughter rising in the midst of the sunny afternoon.

Because Bill wanted it, the two of them had agreed to spend a human lifetime in the humans' world. They had time, Bill had reasoned, and Tom didn't mind. A Nephilim lifespan was a long interval indeed, and half-Nephilim like Tom and Bill shared the natural longevity of their full-blooded kin.

The way Tom figured it, when Bill got bored with life in town, the twins would return to House Kaulitz – with a vengeance.


End file.
